Come With Me
by honeyandvodka
Summary: For all the thought Castle had put into the apocalypse, he had never expected this… An AU set - at times - in the summer between seasons three and four.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**September 2011**

For all the thought Castle had put into the apocalypse, he had never expected this.

The day had started well, great even, and he'd leaped out of bed with a smile on his face, his energy renewed after yesterday's… _encounter_ at the book store. Another entire summer with no contact had been heart-breaking. He didn't expect he'd understand Beckett - Kate's - motivation for ensconcing herself away anytime soon, but things were back on track. _They_ were back on track.

Or they had been.

Since he'd seen her, he thought that short term, their biggest hurdle was going to be his return to the precinct and getting Gates onside. Long term, he was already looking ahead intent on taking a battering ram to Beckett's wall.

So no, he hadn't expected an apocalypse, not today. And most definitely not like this. Had he seen the end of the world coming, he would have anticipated something else entirely.

Something big, that was for sure. The idea of the undead roaming the streets of Manhattan, their faces clawed off, their skin rotting, held a little appeal. If he was completely honest with himself, he would have expected a little vampire action too. Maybe werewolves as well, the complete supernatural host breaking into the city's mainstream.

But this wasn't zombies, so he could never have predicted it.

Castle had never expected robots.

The metallic clang that accompanied the squadrons as they made their way through the streets, their pace steady, was the creepiest sound he'd ever heard. It was all the worse for the fact they didn't even walk quickly. They patrolled as if they had all the time in the world; anyone hiding couldn't hide for long, and anyone running wouldn't be able to run forever.

And Richard Castle, making his way from the subway exit along the wide, exposed streets to the Twelfth Precinct for the first time since the beginning of summer, stopping into get Beckett's coffee before joining her at the precinct, was screwed.

**July 2011**

A book launch party used to be something guaranteed to put Rick in a good mood. This time, however, it was a weighted burden. Not too many years ago he'd seen every event as an opportunity, as man of the hour, to hook up with a beautiful blond. Or brunette, or red-head. He hadn't been fussy.

Today, the lights shone a little dimmer, and the champagne bubbled and fizzed out in the heat wave. This rooftop bar lacked the pizazz of the party at which he'd farewelled Derrick Storm, and if anything felt like going through the motions, this was it.

_I__'ll call you, okay?_

Yeah. That had been over two months ago, and tonight he was lonely. Really lonely. For everyone else here, it was just another party. Well, for almost everyone. Alexis had begged off, claiming she needed to research colleges, and Martha had informed him, with her usual bluntness that, "she knew he'd be mopey, and if he wanted to sulk he could, but she'd find a better party with her theater group." A better party, in this case, meant flying to Los Angeles for a week.

Traitors, the both of them.

He didn't blame them.

He'd gone as far as to ask both Paula and Gina to cancel the launch, then begged them to make it as low-key as possible, but neither was willing to budge. And since Castle wasn't willing to tell them the truth, he'd shrugged it off rather than argue the point any further.

But this book was for Roy, and without Kate - Beckett - by his side to honor the man, the night was falling flat. Even Ryan and Esposito had been unable to attend, both on cases. The strangers, however, were having a good time, helped in part by the free flowing booze, and Castle pasted a smile onto his face as he was flanked by his ex-wife publisher, as well as his publicist.

"Good to see you."

"Thanks for coming."

The words dropped like lead balloons as he spoke them, greeting his guests.

"Thank you for coming by."

_Hand-shake._

"Lovely of you to make it."

_Cheek-kiss._

Paula poked an elbow into his ribs and he grimaced, opening his mouth and forcing his smile wide.

"Can't wait to read your next one," he lied to one of Black Pawn's young upstarts, and he felt, rather than saw, as Gina pursed her lips. The guy - young, sexy, in his twenties, everything Rick had once been and could no longer stand - beamed back at him, apparently unable to hear the lie in the empty words.

"Thanks," he said, his fingers wrapping around Rick's right hand and pumping it up and down with vigor. Castle blinked, resisting the urge to break the man's hand. "I loved this one. Just- the depth. I really feel your characters, you know?"

Castle started to shrug, but, off Paula's look, nodded. "Thanks, yeah. They're pretty real to me, too."

_Castle. Get her out of here._

Too real.

_Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate._

"Yeah, I'd love to meet the real Nikki Heat someday," the guy continued, and Castle swallowed, the lump in his throat making it impossible to form a response. Would he see her again?

_Stay with me, Kate. _

She wasn't dead.

_Don't leave me, please._

No, she was just... gone.

_I__'ll call you, okay?_

He didn't believe it anymore.

* * *

She was torturing herself. There was no other word for it. She was making her own life miserable, and she was helpless to stop herself.

Coming up to the cabin had been an attempt to get away from it all; the city, memories of her shooting... and Castle.

Beckett ran the cursor over his name again, selecting the text before exhaling and clicking the mouse elsewhere on the screen.

She was failing.

Failing at healing, failing at getting Castle the hell out of her mind.

_Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate. _

She shook her head, slamming the laptop shut, but the information from the fan site page remained imprinted on her eyelids. She should be there, at his book launch party. She should be there in a fabulous dress, rendering Castle speechless as she entered the room. Instead, she was here - middle of god-forsaken _nowhere_.

She was lonely; she missed him, and she missed her old life.

Nothing made sense anymore, _nothing_, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying - in vain - to quell the tears that were hot against her eyelids. Why was running her modus operandus? Why had she been unable to face Castle when he'd walked into her hospital room, his face lit up with hope?

Words had failed her then, and she was failing herself now.

_I love you, too._

She'd whispered it after him, but he was long gone by the time the words left her lips. She'd been left with a heavy sense of shame that had filled her veins as she cried into her pillow, trying to stifle her sobs in an ill-formed attempt to avoid racking her body and ripping her stitches. Josh had come back shortly afterward, and she'd allowed him to change her dressings; she'd lain there immobile and silent as he'd done so, and as he'd brushed a kiss against her forehead she'd managed the only honesty that was left to her.

_It__'s over._

He hadn't tried to argue, hadn't done anything, and all she could think, as she watched his retreating form leave her side, was that the slump in his step was nothing like the weight that had emanated from Castle as he'd walked away.

And now she was paying her penance.

Alone, her father back in the city since last week, Kate sighed and leaned back against the sofa, her head heavy.

Much as she wanted to be back in the city, attending Castle's book launch and begging him for an advanced copy, she needed to stay here. Wobbling steps to get all the way down the steep hill to the lake - three hundred feet away - still meant a rest at the shoreline before she could even think about returning to the cabin. Standing too quickly was still likely to give her a head spin, and moving at anything more than a snail's pace pulled at the scar that burned across her side. Beckett hated to admit it, but she couldn't handle a party right now, any more than she could handle walking across the bullpen in heels.

She swallowed, angry at herself for her self-pitying jaunt.

This wasn't healing. This wasn't what she needed.

Time.

Patience.

Tenacity.

One step at a time, she would get better. She would increase her strength, and become the person she needed to be. She could already walk a steady pace _around_ the lake, where the ground was even.

Worthy of Castle, she would be a cop again, even if that day wasn't today.

And maybe, just maybe, next year she'd be in attendance at the _Nikki Heat_ launch party as more than Nikki's alter ego.

* * *

Castle took another sip of his drink as Gina urged him toward the front of the room. She beamed at the crowd as she took the microphone, her usual speech at the ready. "Murder, mystery, macabre..."

He zoned out as she spoke, introducing his novel. "Based on his real life experiences shadowing detectives at the Twelfth Precinct, the characters come alive off the pages-"

At that, he blinked. Alive? Not everyone was alive.

Montgomery would never read this book, and Beckett… if only she would call. Just once. He wanted to know she was okay, just wanted to know that-

He shook his head, unable to lie to himself.

More than know she was okay, he wanted to see her. Hear her. Touch her and taste her, if he was completely honest with himself, and his heart pounded as he heard his own confession again in his head.

_Kate, I love you_.

He ran a hand through his hair as Gina continued her lines. He needed to chill out. He needed to be in the moment, get through tonight, and then he needed to sleep for about twenty-four hours. He was no good to himself, his family, or to the guys at the Twelfth like this. When it came down to it, he wasn't any help to Kate like this. The book was complete now, finished and appropriately tweaked to pay homage to Roy, and he would throw himself back into the investigation again.

_Heat Rises_ would be released officially in another two weeks, and he'd have an assortment of book signings to attend, but he'd talked Paula down from twenty cities to eight, so the summer lay before him. Hell, maybe he and the boys would break the case, give him a reason to call Beckett, and-

"The man of the hour!" Gina gestured to him, her smile wide, "Richard Castle!"

And the air exploded as a whir of gunshots filled the air.

He blinked as he assessed the situation, trying to locate the source of the sound. He found it soon enough, the expressionless face of the gunman mask-like in its composure. The man shot another lazy round of bullets into the crowd, but if Castle wasn't mistaken, the man was searching for something specific. Someone?

Rick dove down behind the closest table, pulling Gina with him. She didn't stick around, scrambling across the ground in the opposite direction. But there was more cover closer to him so he didn't follow her; searching for some semblance of structure, safety, he could see a door five feet away that offered refuge.

He reached up, trying the handle and finding it locked. Damn. Okay. Breathe. The main exit was here somewhere, if he could just force his brain into action. Since when did a single glass of champagne and a crazed gunman affect his ability to just _think_ his way through a crisis? The screams that filled the air rocked through his veins as the sounds all collided; shrieks, gunfire, falling furniture, the sound of people diving for cover behind the planters and beneath the tables.

Around the corner. The main door was around the corner, and he scooted forward, crawling toward the exit, inching closer to absolution. He crouched now, ready to make a run for it once it was in sight, when a sharp whisper caught his attention and he whirled around, his eyes wide at the sight before him.

There was no way she could look _less_ like a gunshot victim who was supposedly recovering from life threatening injuries.

Leather clad, a gun in her hand, she was standing in the doorway, the previously locked door flung off its hinges, shards of wood showing him exactly how forcefully it had been kicked open. Long hair, longer than he'd ever seen on her, and lighter than it had been in May…

"Castle," she hissed again, and he frowned, still trying to make sense of the woman before him.

"Beckett?" he asked, as he struggled to put two and two together. How was she here? Why? She was an angel, he decided, his brain suddenly fuzzy. He'd been shot, and she was an angel, and-

"Castle, _now_!" Her arm was outstretched, her fingers beckoning as she extended her hand, offering it to him as she cast a look in the direction of the gunman. "Come with me if you want to live."

* * *

**A/N: So, here we are****… another fic at long last. As usual, Kylie and Jamie were my partners in crime for the beta, and I love them for it. Mistakes are, of course, mine. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Come with me if you want to live!"

Castle stopped thinking and grabbed Beckett's hand, letting her tug him through the open door into the kitchen. She raced through the room, and he struggled to keep up, but she still clutched his hand, her grip iron strong, so he kept pace, his lungs bursting. Around them, the staff parted, clearing a path for them as they ran, Beckett reaching the door on the other side and throwing it open to reveal a staircase.

"Come on, down here," she urged, releasing his hand, and he gulped in as much air as he could, following her down the stairs, one level after the other. Twenty floors; by no means a skyscraper, but _why_ had he always insisted on having his book launch parties at rooftop bars? The idea of stars above his head didn't seem as sexy now that he wheezed down flight after flight. He'd launch his next book in a garden, he decided. A garden with a lot of quick getaways, and a car waiting for them-

There was a car waiting for them.

As they reached the ground floor, running through the hotel lobby to the street, Beckett dashed around the other side of an unfamiliar sports car, her speed preternatural as she reached across, throwing the passenger door open.

"Get in," she urged, hitting the gas before he'd even closed the door. She roared through the street, weaving around the many cabs, reaching behind her while he stared in horror at the traffic they were sure to hit-

She turned back around, jerking the wheel sharply to avoid a head-on collision before tossing him the bag she'd just grabbed from the backseat.

"Here. You need to be armed," she said. "We don't have much time."

Armed?

She wanted him to be armed.

He stared at her. Who was she, and what had she done with Kate Beckett? The last time she'd willingly allowed him to be armed was when they were heading into the showdown with Hal Lockwood, but that had been different; her backup piece was a good sight different to the - he looked down with trepidation - zipped duffel, its weight heavy on his legs. He swallowed, shooting her another look before opening it and rummaging through the contents.

This definitely wasn't her back up piece.

This was a whole other world of hurt, the collection of guns both automatic and semi-automatic more than he could get his head around. He selected a handgun, praying he wouldn't be called upon to fire from a moving vehicle. He was good, he just wasn't _that _good.

"Beckett. Kate. What the hell is going on? What about everyone else at the party?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Not our biggest problem right now. We have to get out of the city," was all she said. "Where are Alexis and Martha?"

"Uh- mother is out of town? And Alexis is at the loft, so-"

"So we're going to have to go get her."

Beckett's mouth was set in a grim line, and his own jaw dropped.

"Seriously? Beckett? What the hell is-"

He stopped before he could finish the sentence, understanding flooding him. They weren't safe, no one was. Putting a bullet in her at Montgomery's funeral wasn't enough, and now everyone was in danger.

"The dragon," he finished, his voice low as she threaded across the city, making unpredictable turns, her ultimate path remaining South-West as she headed toward the loft.

A wry twist of her lips quashed that idea before she opened her mouth to tell him, "You should wish it was the dragon."

"But who else wants us dead?" he protested, and she shrugged as they squealed to a stop outside his apartment.

"Go," she said. "Fast. _Really _fast, Castle. Five minutes, tops. Get Alexis, some money, the keys to your place in the Hamptons, and be back down here and ready to go."

"Road trip snacks?" he asked, his brain finally working clearly enough to attempt a joke, but it fell flat as she scanned their surroundings, the look in her eyes uncannily like the one the gunman had worn as he'd opened fire on the crowd.

"Four minutes," was her only answer.

* * *

"But Dad, what's happening?" Alexis asked as he hurried her into the elevator.

He stabbed at the button for the ground floor, rocking back and forth as the doors closed. "I have no idea, sweetie. But Kate's here, and, well, let's just go."

"But your book launch party-"

He shook his head, unwilling to divulge what had happened there, unwilling to even think about what might have happened to the guests who had attended; he needed to stay calm for Alexis' sake. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Now Beckett's in trouble, and we have to go."

"Is this about her shooting?" Alexis asked, and he hesitated. Beckett had said this had nothing to do with the dragon, but it _had_ to, surely?

"I don't know, okay? But we have to get out of the city, and we have to go now."

The elevator opened and he caught the doorman's eye, raising a quick hand in farewell before racing toward the street. Beckett nodded as he approached, and she leaped back into the car as he threw his bag in the trunk, taking Alexis' rucksack from her and tossing it in as well. He opened his own door, sliding the passenger seat forward so his daughter could squeeze into the back, before shifting it back again, sitting down in a hurry as Beckett took off, the tires screeching.

"Uh- where are we going?" Alexis spoke up, and Beckett nodded.

"The Hamptons, Alexis. We can lay low there for a while, figure out our next move."

"The Hamptons? It's not exactly a secret that I own that place," Castle protested, and Beckett shook her head.

"It's closer than the cabin upstate, and they don't know about either of them yet. Besides, it's July, so going up to the cabin right now would be confusing."

"What cabin?" Castle asked, and Beckett glanced at him as she ran a red.

"B- My dad's cabin," she said. "It's- it's important, later on. Trust me. But for now…" she shook her head, and Castle huffed. Why did he have the distinct feeling he was only getting half the story?

"It's nice to see you looking so well, Detective Beckett," Alexis' small voice spoke up again from the backseat, and he saw as Beckett glanced in the rear view mirror, her expression even as she looked at his daughter.

"Thank you, Alexis," she said at last. "I'm just glad I can help."

"But help with _what_?" Castle asked.

"I'll explain it all later, I promise. Right now we have to get you out of town, that's the main thing. I have to keep you safe, and then-"

"And who's keeping _you_ safe?" Castle asked, anger erupting now that the adrenalin was wearing off. "God, Beckett. They wanted to shoot you. They _did_ shoot you. And now you show up here as if everything is normal- oh, except for that bit where they want to kill us!" His fury showed itself as sarcasm, but Beckett didn't flinch as she guided the car onto the Williamsburg Bridge.

"Yes, that shouldn't be normal," she said. "But don't worry, Castle. It's going to be okay." She grinned, a wide smile spreading across her face, and for a second she was unrecognizable, her long hair shining in the streetlights that cast a fast-flickering glow into the car. "We're going to make it okay, that's what I'm pr- that's what I'm here for."

He slumped down into the seat, his head pressed hard against the headrest. Fine. She could be like this. Never mind that she'd just showed up out of nowhere after more than two months of radio silence. Never mind that her insistence on an impromptu trip to the Hamptons made no sense. Never mind that she'd dumped a bag of weapons in his lap. Never mind that he was now on the run with his daughter-

This was insane.

"I have to call my mother," he told her, and she nodded, her eyes on the road.

"Go ahead. Don't tell her where we are. Just tell her if she- tell her not to go to the loft when she comes back to town, okay? And if she… sees someone who looks like you? She should go in the other direction."

From the backseat, Alexis let out a whimper, and he turned to say something comforting, but… what could he offer her?

"Don't worry, Alexis," Beckett said, her tone anything but reassuring, and he glared at her before pulling his cell from his pocket.

"Hey!" he said, something occurring to him before he could place the call. "What the _hell_ does that mean? Someone who looks like me?"

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to the reviewers with kind words, and to my betas, J&amp;K! x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Beckett stalked around the perimeter of his property and Castle watched her silhouette from the living room as she scanned the beach frontage before disappearing into the tree line that led to the pool house.

The drive along the 495 usually took just over two hours, but tonight's journey had broken all records, and Castle looked at his wristwatch to confirm the time. Ten. Two hours ago he'd been about to introduce his latest novel, and now he was here.

He shuddered, closing his eyes and finding the images of the book launch party imprinted on his eyelids; he couldn't be certain but he thought at least a handful of people had been shot. The sound of gunfire and screams echoed in his memory and he snapped his eyes open, forcing himself to even his breathing.

"Is everything really okay?" Alexis asked, wandering back into the living room and curling up on the sofa with a glass of water in her hand.

"I… think so?" he said. He'd always promised himself he wouldn't lie to Alexis, but what could he say? Telling her the entire truth about his book launch party being shot up wouldn't be conducive to sleep, and frankly, Beckett was behaving strangely. "Why don't you go to bed? We'll have breakfast in the morning, touch base with Ryan and Esposito, figure this whole thing out. I bet we can be back in the city in time for lunch."

She nodded, rising from the couch and leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Night, Dad."

"Night, sweetie," he returned, watching as she padded from the room, then listening to the familiar sound of her footfall as she made her way up to the second floor.

He sighed as he heard her bedroom door open and close, reaching around to massage the tension from his shoulders now that she was gone. What the _hell_ was going on?

"We're safe," Beckett announced from behind him. "I've locked up. It's all secure, you can go to bed."

"_We_ can go to bed," he corrected. "I'll show you your room. Except, I'm not going anywhere until you explain everything."

She stared at him, apparently assessing the situation. "Okay, sit," she said at last, and he sank onto the sofa Alexis had just vacated. She took the chair opposite him, her figure lithe in the oversize green armchair, and he frowned.

How was she moving that well two months after open-heart surgery? The questions were catching up with him, and his brain buzzed as it went into overdrive. No one could run down twenty flights of stairs like that after being shot in the chest. No one could drive so skillfully - he flashed back to the way she'd twisted to reach for the weapons bag - or move like that. Not after the injuries she'd sustained. Plus, her hair. It was longer, lighter, and he'd shrugged it off as superficial, but now he wasn't so sure.

"You're not Beckett," he decided, watching her closely.

But rather than deny it, or react with shock, she smiled, the expression softening her face. "No, I'm not," she agreed. "But I am, as well. I have all her memories, and-"

"Where is she?" he demanded, leaping up and leaning over the impostor. "What have you done to her? Who are you?"

"She's safe," the woman said. "That I promise. She's…" She huffed out what sounded like a sad laugh before continuing. "I swear, Castle. She's safe, she's at her dad's cabin, and I know she's miserable."

"You know she's miserable?"

"She misses you," the woman confirmed. "I remember that. I can… feel it."

"How can you _remember_ something that is happening right now, to someone else?" he demanded.

"When I tell you, remember that you're open minded. You're the one who likes all the crazy theories, okay?"

"So what?" he said, pacing now, back and forth, unable to return to his seat on the couch. "You're a time traveler? You're Beckett, but from the future? Because don't you think if someone was going to time travel, it would be me? She doesn't even believe that stuff."

A shadow passed across not-Beckett's face. "I'm from the future, it's true. And I have her memories. In the future, there are lots of copies, and I'm one of them. Some of us have memories." She shrugged. "Some don't."

"So there is a me, but he doesn't have my memories?" This was crazy. But somehow… things were making sense for the first time since the shots had been fired.

"The other you… isn't on our side," she said. "So trust me. It's a good thing he doesn't have your memories. Or, at least he didn't, when I left. Things change all the time. We shouldn't count on that."

"Things change," he echoed. "And I'm… _evil_?"

"Not you," she said. "The other you."

"And you're the other Beckett… is that what I'm supposed to call you?"

"It might get confusing if you think of us both as Beckett," she said. "You can call me… Houghton."

"Houghton?"

"It's her middle name."

"Do _you _have a name in your time, though? One that's not hers?"

"I don't need my own name," she explained. "That's not what this is about."

Not what this was about. Right. What? If that was the case - which was fine - that brought them back to the question of exactly what this was all about. "What about Ryan and Esposito?" he asked. "And the dragon?"

"The dragon… that will work itself out in its own time," she said. "That's not my concern. You'll figure it out when the time comes."

"But why don't you tell me? I mean, if you have her memories, you _know _right?"

"I do," she said. "But I'm not here for that."

"Fine." He shook his head. "Then what are you here for, _Houghton_?"

"Sit," she said again, and he sidestepped the couch, giving her a pointed look as he moved instead toward the drinks trolley, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch before holding the bottle out to her.

"Drink?"

"I don't drink," she replied, and he shrugged. Of course, he knew Beckett's dad had had a drinking problem, and whenever Beckett talked about going out with Lanie it was to share a few glasses of wine, or she would have the occasional beer with the guys, so maybe she'd prefer something else.

"I can get you wine," he said. "Or water?"

She shook her head, all the familiarity of the Beckett he knew and loved - god, he did not have time to go there - in the impatience on her features. "I don't drink," she repeated, indicating his couch with a nod of her head.

He sat down taking a sip of the scotch, the burn of it welcome as it made its way down his throat.

"You look the way Beckett feels when she takes a sip of the coffee you bring her each morning," Houghton commented.

He closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his face as he tried to process this. "How she _feels_?"

He opened his eyes to see Houghton shrug. "That's not important right now."

"Avoiding feelings. Maybe you are Beckett."

Houghton rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well. Wise cracks. I know I have the right Richard Castle."

"So what's going on? You going to explain it, or what?"

She nodded, leaning forward and meeting his eyes. Once again, he had the distinct feeling that she was more than looking at him. She was examining him, scrutinizing him as he sat before her. "In the future," she waved her hand, dismissing the details. "The exact time frame isn't important for you right now. But in the future, you're important. Or, well, not you, exactly, but-"

"Beckett?" he guessed.

"Not her, exactly, either, but yes. Both of you are important. We need to keep you safe. There are lots of us, and some things are more involved than others. This is… it's just a blip. Just a quick thing, and it will all be over, and life will go on for you the way it was meant to. There are other people who are out there making sure the big things are taken care of."

"You realize you're not making this any clearer, right?"

"Castle. Relax." Houghton smiled. "I'm just trying to keep this simple. There are things you need to know, and things you don't. I came here because I have a mission. I need two things to happen before I can go back. One, I need to keep you safe. And because your happiness is important, I need to keep Alexis safe as well."

"My happiness is important?"

"Not to me," she hedged. "But… yes. Ultimately."

"And what was the other thing?" Castle was on the edge on his own chair now, leaning forward toward Houghton.

Her eyes sparkled, and he swallowed. She was Beckett, with the green-hazel eyes, the mouth that loved to laugh, the beauty spot below her eye… but she was not Beckett. Her piercing gaze was calculating, and there was something just a little too knowing about the way she looked at him, as though she knew him better than he knew himself.

"We need to blow up an office," she said, her voice matter of fact. "I need you for my mission, you're going to help me. It shouldn't be a big deal, and honestly, in the scheme of things, it's _one_ building. Like I said, there are others who are here, and more things for them to do. But I need to see to the New York branch shut down."

"By blowing it up?"

"We need to be sure," she said.

"But, why? What are we going to achieve by blowing up a single office building?"

"They have blueprints there," she said. "For AI."

"AI?"

"Artificial int-"

"I know what AI is," he said. "But none of this makes any sense. How do I know I can trust you? You've burst into my life-"

"I saved your life at the party," she countered.

"And you claim you're Beckett, but not. Seriously, _Houghton_, how am I meant to believe a word you say?"

"Because I'm a machine," she told him, meeting his gaze with her own. "And the resistance programmed me to help you."

* * *

**A/N: *shuffles in quietly***

**So, here we are… another fic. And the author's note I didn't want to write until now, to avoid spoilers, but at this point it's clear! Child's Play was, perhaps, an homage to Kindergarten Cop. But my feeling was that if there was an homage to an Arnie movie, well… shouldn't that movie be Terminator?! From that musing this was born. My heart lies with The Sarah Connor Chronicles, more so than the movie franchise, but I have deep respect for both, and every borrowed line, plot point or character, be they from Castle, TSSC or Terminator, was borrowed with love. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. (Also. I love cylons too, but didn't really mix them into this mythology.) x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

This was _awesome_.

Not only was artificial intelligence a thing, but it was so advanced that there was a resistance. In fact, his very own futuristic robot person had been sent back in time to save his life and complete a mission.

That was so cool.

"Are you okay?" Houghton asked, and he nodded.

"Okay? Am I okay? I'm more than okay, I'm _great_. I've been dreaming of this since, well, you have no idea. Wait, unless you do. Did I tell Beckett about my zombie apocalypse survival plan by any chance? Because if I did, you probably have a pretty good idea of what's going through my head right now."

Houghton rolled her eyes. "Fortunately - or not, as the case may be - I'm familiar with your zombie apocalypse survival camp attendance."

"Camp? I go to camp? That is _so_ cool."

"Focus, Castle," Houghton said, and he made a face at her.

Yeah, they'd programmed her like Beckett alright. A humorless Beckett, business first, just like the way she was when they were knee-deep in a case that wasn't progressing. What helped then? He grinned. Theory building. Even back in the beginning, he and Beckett had been able to build theory, so there was no reason - even if they'd programmed this one to be a little colder - that wouldn't work here.

He took a sip of his scotch as he steeled himself.

"Fine. Tell me more about what we have to do."

* * *

The scent of coffee registered before Castle was properly awake, and he forced his eyes open as everything came flooding back.

The book launch party. Running with Alexis. And Houghton.

It couldn't be real, could it? But a glance around the room told him he was indeed in the Hamptons rather than the loft. He stretched, turning his head to take in the time. Eight o'clock was painfully early, or it would be on a typical morning after a book launch, but consuming a single glass of champagne and a scotch was anything but ordinary. Neither was being rescued by a machine.

He shrugged, wanting to resist getting up, but he had to face his new reality at some stage. The sooner he and Houghton blew up this office building, the better. But first, caffeine.

He descended the stairs two at a time, slowing as he rounded the door into the kitchen. Alexis and Houghton were standing at the espresso machine, his daughter instructing Houghton how to use it. He smirked at the idea of a robot being stumped by something as simple as making coffee, before the smile fell from his face and he let his eyes glaze over.

Alexis and Beckett, standing together like friends. He could see it so clearly; for a second Houghton wasn't a stranger, wasn't a machine, she was_ Kate_, and she was in his life. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the door frame as he let himself get lost in the fantasy.

_Kate turned from the espresso maker, a cup of coffee in her hand, which she extended toward him. He took it, leaning in to kiss her as his daughter rolled her eyes, exasperated but happy in spite of their open affection. A thud of footsteps burst into the kitchen, tiny feet running for them, their child reaching up for him and Kate. __"Hey, baby," Kate said, scooping the little boy up and pressing a kiss to his dark hair. "You want to say good morning to Daddy?"_

"Dad?"

Rick shook himself from the moment, swallowing as he pushed the daydream away. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, painting a smile onto his face for Alexis.

"I made you coffee," Houghton announced, striding toward him and pushing the cup into his hands. "And I explained to Alexis that I am not Kate… I am her _sister_." She nodded at him, apparently ready to dismiss the topic.

"Dad, you didn't tell me Kate had a sister," Alexis said, a frown crossing her face, and he reached out, ruffling a hand through her hair.

"I didn't know," he said, hoping the half-lie would suffice. He took a sip of the coffee, seating himself at the counter. "Did you two sleep well?"

"Yeah, good," Alexis said, flopping down beside him, but Houghton shook her head.

"I do not sleep." He raised his eyebrows. Too many statements like that and Alexis wouldn't be on board with the sister storyline for very much longer.

"Okay, then." He cleared his throat. "So what do we need to do today?"

"Have you spoken to Esposito and Ryan? Is it clear to go back to our apartment?" Alexis asked, and he shrugged, hoping Houghton would jump in.

"Yes," she said, sounding anything but convincing. "But it is better if we stay here one more night to be sure. You'll be okay. Safe. Castle and I need to go for a drive though, check a few things out."

She looked him up and down, and he glanced at his attire to see what she was looking at; striped pajama pants and a green lantern t-shirt. Was it his fault he'd been allocated four minutes to get the hell out of the loft last night? The few things he had on hand here weren't exactly the height of sleep fashion, and he'd been a damn sight more concerned with getting Alexis to safety.

"Get dressed," she instructed him and he took a deliberately slow sip of his coffee. _His_ Beckett was never _that _harsh, not even when she was telling him to stay in the car.

How had it taken him so long last night to realize that this wasn't Kate?

* * *

"Where are we going?" he asked once they were back in the car. "Back to the city?"

"Back to the city, yes."

"Why did we even leave? We could have laid low there, stayed in a hotel or something?"

"We have some stops to make on the way. Besides, it's good that Alexis is safe."

"And this will be all over… when? Tonight? Tomorrow?"

"Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow."

Castle grimaced, his palms damp against his jeans as Houghton sped down the interstate. Another thing she had in common with Beckett; her complete unwillingness to let him drive. He'd offered, as they'd walked out of the house, and she'd fixed him with a look that was uncanny in its familiarity.

The scenery faded into a blur as she broke the speed limits, and he shook his head, wondering whether this version of Beckett came equipped with a detective's shield to ward off any traffic cops. Asking seemed futile, given the monosyllabic responses he'd gotten from her so far since they'd left the house, but his mouth opened of its own accord and the question left his lips before he could bite it down.

"Open the glove box," she instructed him, and he did so, curious. Most of the weapons were still in the duffel bag at his feet. Could there be more?

Instead, the glove box was full of documents, and he rifled through them. A police badge was part of the assortment, and he ran his fingertip over the familiar numbers: 41319.

"It's good to be accurate," she told him, and he nodded, opening the passports that were nestled behind the badge. His own face stared back from both a Canadian passport and an American, but in neither case did the document purport to belong to Richard Castle. "And sometimes it's important to obscure a few details."

"Where did you get all of these?" he asked as he opened a few more passports; all Kate's picture, or Houghton's, all labeled with generic names, random dates of birth. She glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I told you. There are a lot of us, and a lot of little things need to happen for each plan to be set into motion. It's best to be prepared."

"And what's our first stop?"

"Safety deposit box," she said, indicating and taking the next exit, still driving well over the limit. She guided the car onto a side road, peeling up to a suburban strip mall and coming to a stop outside the bank. She flicked through the passports, handing one to Castle, and slipping one into her own back pocket before producing a small key, passing it to him. She pointed to the weapons on the floor. "Choose something."

"We can't take weapons into the bank," he protested, and she shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. Take something anyway."

He shrugged, grabbing a small handgun and sliding it into the back waistband of his jeans, making sure it was concealed by his t-shirt.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

They were in and out of the bank in record time, no weapons drawn. The bank teller had checked their IDs, and he and Houghton had handed over their safety deposit box keys. Houghton had retrieved what looked to him like paperwork and a metal box - "blueprints," she'd stated, her matter of fact tone not inviting questions about the container that was clearly heavy, and most definitely _not _blueprints.

The complications started as soon as they exited the bank, as they approached their car; Castle flew to the ground as the air exploded in gunshots. But Houghton was ready; the guns in her waistband were suddenly an extension of her limbs as she shot at their attacker, her pace steady as she advanced upon him.

Amid the chaos, Castle forced himself to _think_, taking cover behind the car before drawing his own weapon. It was over before he could fire, though, Houghton marching forward and throwing the corpse over her shoulder.

"Open the trunk," she instructed him, and he blinked, shaking his head as he did so.

This was insane. This was honest to goodness, certifiably mad, bat-shit insane. What was he thinking, going with this woman, just because she looked like Beckett? She wasn't Beckett. Hell, she probably wasn't even a machine, because seriously, how nuts was that?

"Don't just stand there," she hissed. "Help me."

"With… what?"

She rolled her eyes - another of Kate's looks that she'd perfected - twisting their attackers head with surprising force, grimacing at Castle as he squealed. "Gotta get this off," she grunted, and his jaw dropped.

"What, it's not enough that you filled him with holes? If he's not already dead he's gonna bleed out…" Castle trailed off as he looked closely. No blood. In the distance, sirens wailed.

"Holes won't do it," she said, tugging, and all at once the head came off, revealing metal and wires. Holy fuck. She wasn't kidding. This really was rise of the machines, and it was all startlingly real. "Come on. We'll take his chip out in the car."

She tossed the head to him, stalking around to the driver's side.

"Aren't you glad I made you take that weapon now? Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: J&amp;K, your beta powers combined rock my world. Reviewers from last week to whom I did not individually reply, thank you. x **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Beck- Houghton, I'm holding a _head_."

"Calm down, Castle." Houghton's face was expressionless as she slammed her foot on the gas, the car peeling away with a squeal of tires.

"But… I'm holding a _head_!"

"You mentioned," she said, her eyes on the road as she sped through the side streets of generic suburbia, the cookie-cutter Long Island neighborhood blurring before his eyes. "Here." She pulled a screwdriver and a small knife from her pocket, passing them to him.

"What's this?"

"A screwdriver." She offered a slight shake of her head, pointing at it. "We need to destroy this. Get its chip out. We have a minute before it reboots." She grinned. "Maybe two. We messed it up pretty badly."

"The chip?"

"Yes. Now, above the ear-" She pointed to her own head to demonstrate. "No, the left- yes, that's it. Get your knife, cut down, into the skull. You need to peel the skin back-"

"Ew!"

"Castle, it's a robot. And if it reboots in your hands, even without its body? Trust me, you're gonna be a hell of a lot more freaked out. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's the one who was shooting at you last night. Does that make you feel better?"

Did it make him feel better? He looked at the head. Yeah. That was him alright. But that didn't make this any less creepy. He shuddered, doing as Houghton said. What would be worse? Cutting into this thing before it woke up, or after? "Got it."

"Okay, now take the screwdriver, you see the spot there?"

"Uh-huh." He unscrewed the cover, revealing what looked like an SD card. "That's… it?"

"Yes. Remove it, and give it to me."

He extracted the plastic, shaking his head as he did so. Just like changing memory cards in his camera. It was that easy. He looked again at the head in its lap, the wires extending out from its neck. It was that complicated. He tucked the card into his pocket. "I, uh- I think I'll hold on to it, for now."

Houghton shrugged, the car slowing as she merged onto the interstate. He swallowed. How was it possible to drive slower here than through all the back streets she'd navigated?

"So… uh, why was that-" he glanced again at the head in his hands, shuddering, "-_this_, there? Did it follow us?"

"Someone screwed up, maybe. Or someone changed something. Or there's a traitor in the ranks? Any number of reasons, Castle, but the main thing is we got what we needed for now, before they could get it, and we got that guy too." Houghton raised her eyebrows at him before focusing on the road again and changing the subject. "In any case, we have a slight change of plans," she said.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we're not going to take care of that building until later. You might want to call Alexis. We're not going back to the Hamptons tonight."

"What am I going to tell her?"

Houghton rolled her eyes. "For someone as prepared for the zombie apocalypse as you're meant to be, not to mention the fact you make up stories for a living, I would have thought you could figure something out."

Castle leaned back against the headrest as Houghton sped along the expressway, trying to get a handle on everything. Less than twenty-four hours ago his biggest problem had been the fact Beckett hadn't called. Now, not only was he stuck with her robot-lookalike, he was a passenger in a car headed west, away from his daughter, and back toward the very city they'd fled the night before.

And he _still _had a robot head in his lap.

"Ugh!" He shuddered, tossing it into the backseat, shaking his head to clear the image of the wires protruding from its neck where veins should have been. A few years scoping out homicide scenes and countless field trips to the morgue had not prepared him for this, and he groaned in disgust as the reality hit him: he was less grossed out by dead bodies than by robots. That was not cool, not at all. No. He was Richard Castle, zombie apocalypse aficionado, and being prepared for zombies meant being prepared for anything, even if anything meant robots.

* * *

Every day she was getting stronger, and today Beckett had made it all the way to the lake without breaking a sweat. Dressed in leggings and a t-shirt, she was glad of the summer. Covering up in the sun was important, she couldn't risk burning the tender skin surrounding her scar, but when she was inside and in the shade she was okay in a crop top which meant nothing rubbed against the healing wound. The bandages were no longer necessary; she needed to keep the skin clean, but she was able to move freely without any wrapping around her torso.

She sank down onto the ground at the shore, stretching her legs out, and reaching her hands back, breathing deeply as the stretch pulled her scar, but the tension was painless, and she arched her neck, the sunlight hitting her face as she closed her eyes.

She was healing.

As if the new day had chased away her anger, last night's outburst of emotion was a distant memory and all that was left in its place was a combination of exhaustion and conviction.

She was tired, so very tired of the effort it was taking to not call Castle. But her determination was strong. She wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready. Not for her. Not when she was broken like this. One day he would forgive her. Her walls would break down, and she would be more.

She bit her lip, shifting so her weight was no longer on her hands, and she ran her fingers across her abdomen, barely flinching as she touched the scar tissue below the shirt. Her ribcage - always visible - was exaggerated now, and she let her hand fall back to the ground, the scant grass rough to her touch.

What if he didn't forgive her?

* * *

An old office building in a decrepit part of New Jersey seemed an unlikely venue for a building that housed the secrets to artificial intelligence, but Houghton had lifted her shoulder in a disinterested shrug when he'd commented.

"Appearances can be deceiving," was all she had said, opening the trunk of the car and pushing the headless robot to the side in order to move the carpet.

As she retrieved explosives from the tire well, her movements a perfect mirror of Beckett, he had to agree. Everything about this was smoke and mirrors. Was there even a resistance? Who _was_ Houghton? Why copy Beckett? Why copy him, for that matter.

"What if we get a flat?" he asked, indicating the now empty space in the trunk, and she glared at him.

"Focus, Castle."

His gaze fell back on her slender form. Beckett. She was Beckett from head to toe. Longer hair, sure, just another in the dizzying array of hairstyles Beckett had already had. He lowered his eyes, stopping as he evaluated the differences. Houghton was a touch skinnier, perhaps? But her… assets-

He shook his head.

He needed to focus.

On something _other_ than Beckett, or Houghton's admittedly attractive form.

Houghton was a machine, and no matter how Beckett-like she was, she was not the woman he was in love with.

As for Beckett… he was in love with her, had been for a long time.

And he still didn't know if he was ever going to see or hear from her again.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for all your support with this fic, especially Jamie and Kylie for giving it a thorough beta-ing! x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Richard Castle was a conundrum.

He was hot and cold. Intrigued by the rise of the machines, the resistance and time travel one second, the next he would lose his focus, staring at her as if she were a monster. Or worse, he would gaze at her, the slightest of smiles on his face, and she would have to fight the urge to raise her voice at him.

_"I'm not her,"_ she wanted to remind him. _"I'm not Beckett, and you're not in love with me. You need to wait for your happy ending."_

Houghton stayed silent as she handed him the explosives, biting her tongue and willing him to follow her lead. Blowing this building up was nothing she hadn't done a dozen times before, but the stakes were higher tonight. Before, it had been 2018, and 2020. Before, the resistance had been a mere blip on their radar. Before, she'd been one of the bad guys.

Before, as she had threaded wires, and hit the switches she needed to activate, she hadn't had the very human she was charged to protect beside her.

And never before had she had a partner in crime with whom she was being less than honest.

She inhaled then exhaled, the unnecessary oxygen failing to run through her veins; where Richard Castle was flesh and blood, she was wire and metal. Where Richard Castle was emotion, taut and on edge, she could only afford to be logic, follow her programming.

Still, something niggled, and she realized she was yet again running through Beckett's memory bank, looking for a solution, though how Beckett could help her now, she didn't know.

No matter how often Beckett had told Castle to stay in the car, tried to shield him, right from their first case together, Castle had always found himself in too deep. She grinned at the memory of Rick's face as he'd realized Russian Beckett was saving him, her smile only deepening as she relived Beckett's memory of relief once she knew Castle was safe.

In spite of the memories, there were no answers to be found. She needed to protect Castle, needed to keep him in the moment. She needed him to believe that the most important people in his life were safe, and so rocking the already precariously balanced boat was out of the question. He needed to believe that once this building had been blown sky high he would return to his ordinary life because if he knew he would be leaving both Alexis and Beckett tomorrow, he would never agree.

He needed to believe that he would remain in 2011, that time would keep ticking in the methodical way he had known his whole life. Certainly she wished he could stay; bringing the very person she'd committed to protect into the line of danger seemed foolhardy.

"Ready," Castle announced, with a nod toward the building, and she set her mouth in a firm line, holding her own C4 up to demonstrate that she, too, was ready.

First this. It was three in the morning in July 2011 right now. It was time. Tomorrow they would deal with the future; tonight they needed to take the first step to ensure the right future would be there when they arrived.

* * *

"Holy…"

Houghton sped away and he craned his head, unable to take his eyes off the building; one second it was there, an old and only partially used office space. The next, it was alight, the shudder rocking their car even from the distance they'd already gained.

"Shit."

Beside him, in the glow of the orange flames, Houghton smiled, her expression genuinely warm, enchantingly human, in fact. "We did it," she said, a hint - if he wasn't mistaken - of relief in her voice.

"You didn't think we would?" he asked as he considered for the first time that perhaps the machine beside him wasn't as infallible as she'd led him to believe.

"Of course I knew I could do it," she protested. "I was just worried you would screw it up."

"Then why bring me?" he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Two birds, one stone," she told him, the idiom rolling off her tongue as if English was her mother tongue rather than whatever base programming language was at the core of her being. "I have to protect you. Keeping you with me is smart."

She shrugged, shifting in her seat and reaching down to pull a phone from her pocket, her eyes still trained on the road as she scrolled through the contact list, selecting a name and holding the cell to her ear.

"You're meant to put it on speaker if you're driving," he told her, and she screwed her face up at him before the call connected.

"It's done," she said, ignoring him as she concentrated on the phone.

He strained to hear the voice on the other end but he could only hear a faint murmur. Houghton, too, spoke softly but what he caught was meaningless without context as she punctuated the conversation with _yes_ and _no,_ and, _tomorrow_ and _lay low_.

"Who was that?" he demanded when she ended the call, and she smiled.

"A friend."

"A friend? You mean… another robot?"

"Does it matter?" She sighed. "Honestly, Castle, you need to just go with the flow. It's going to be okay."

"Okay? Okay?!" The adrenalin was fading now, leaving a throbbing headache and exhaustion in its wake. Sirens broke the quiet of the pre-dawn hour, and the dam broke as he snapped. "Nothing about this is okay! You kidnapped me from my party last night, and you're talking to robots, and we blew up a building! What about this is okay?!"

"Breathe."

She reached out across the console, her hand light against his thigh, and he swallowed as he relaxed into her touch. Beckett. Except, she wasn't. The warmth on his leg was nonetheless welcome and he shook his head. This was so fucked up; gaining comfort from Beckett's mirror while the woman he loved recovered upstate… alone.

_Kate. I love you, Kate._

Fuck.

He pushed Houghton's hand away, clearing his throat as he did so. He needed to focus. He needed to get his head in the game so that he could get _out_ of this, go back to his daughter, his mother. His life. And Kate. He had to stay strong for her. Houghton hadn't been explicit, but she'd said he was important, and that Beckett was important, and frankly, if the resistance had gone to the effort of programming a copy of Beckett with her memories, she must be.

A chill ran down his spine as something occurred to him, and as he mulled it over, he knew it to be true. Even if what she said was correct - that she was on his side, part of the resistance - at some point, probably when she was made, she'd been one of the bad guys.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked, and she glanced over at him, amusement playing on her features. "And who gave you Beckett's memories?" he asked, pushing further, and she hesitated. "Was that before you were one of the good guys?"

She lifted a hand from the wheel, waving his question away. "You'd be dead if you couldn't trust me," she supplied, her voice deadpan, and he shuddered. Yeah. That was comforting. Not.

"Shit," he swore, struggling to find a safer topic. "Wait, why do you use cell phones, anyway?"

"Why do we use cell phones?" Houghton chuckled. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably because your technology is so much more advanced than ours. Why would you use phones if you can just time travel?"

This time Houghton broke into peals of laughter, and Castle grimaced. "We might be able to time travel, but there's no need to reinvent the wheel. Phones exist, we use them." She shrugged. "You might want to think twice about installing Siri on your phone at the end of the year, though."

"Sirry? What?"

She shook her head. "Work with me, Castle, and we'll figure it out, I promise."

He sat up, straightening his back as best he could as he trained his gaze on Houghton. "Okay. You want me in this? I'm in. But if I'm in, that means you need to tell me things. I can't have your back if I don't know what's going on, and we need to work together, as a team."

Houghton glanced over at him, a smile lighting up her face. "We do make a pretty good team."

"So tell me what I need to know. Tell me who you were talking to."

She sighed, reaching out again and patting his leg quickly, before withdrawing her hand, replacing it on the wheel and making a perfect ten and two.

"We have a new priority. I was talking to… someone from the resistance. Someone who came back at the same time I did."

"Another… machine?" Castle guessed.

She nodded. "Someone else came back with us. Two someones, actually. Or, somethings." She jerked her thumb back, indicating the rear of the car. "Him, for one."

"So who else?" Castle asked, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach as something occurred to him. "No."

"Yes," Houghton said. "You. But not you. The other you. And he's not like me. We have some new information. He does have your memories, but he hasn't been reprogrammed by the resistance. He's going after Beckett."

* * *

**A/N: Bwahahaha. I mean. Oops? LOL. Thanks for reading, and thanks Kylie and Jamie for your betaing! x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"We have to go save Beckett!"

"You think?" Houghton offered him an eye roll accompanied by a soft huff, and he screwed his face back up at her.

"Oh. You already thought of that."

"Yes, Castle. I already thought of that."

"Okay. Fine. Well, let's go. Wait, where are we going?"

"The cabin is five hours away. Well, four now."

"And you know where it is." Castle frowned as he realized the next part. "And so does… _he_."

Houghton shook her head, grinning. "Nope. We don't think he does. You never went there, so even though he knows its basic location, he doesn't have any memory of going there."

"Okay. Good. Nothing to worry about, then."

"I wouldn't say that. We can beat him there, we'll be there by mid-morning, but he's got the tools he needs to figure it out. After all, he looks like you."

* * *

Beckett closed her eyes, laying down on the ground and letting the morning sun soak into her skin. Until the last month her dad's cabin had always been a place of refuge. Even after her mom had died she'd continued coming here, finding solace in the quiet.

It had been an easy decision to come up here to recover. If the screeching of the city - car horns, squealing tires, shouting drivers and pedestrians - hadn't been enough to set her nerves on edge, the news that her building was planning maintenance on the elevator had settled it.

She couldn't live in a fourth floor walkup, and she couldn't stay trapped within four walls either, which left the cabin as the perfect choice. It wasn't someone else's space, not the way it would have been if she'd agreed to stay in her dad's Chelsea apartment with him like he'd suggested. And it offered safety, security, a place to stretch her legs. It was somewhere she could think without feeling like she had a target on her back every time she stepped outside.

Across the garden, the forest seemed to still all at once; bird call ceased as the breeze halted, the rustle of leaves a companion no more. Beckett snapped her eyes open. It was too quiet. She turned her head to look around, but everything appeared normal. A crunch of gravel in the driveway broke the silence and she flinched as she twisted - grimacing at the sharp pain in her side - but there was no one there. Darting into the forest was a deer, and she exhaled as she tried to calm her pounding heart. The sharp cry of a bird merged with the sound of the wind as it breezed through the trees once more, and the afternoon was normal again.

She shook her head, sitting up. Everything was fine. She'd imagined… something and she bit her lip as she rubbed her arms, the goosebumps an unwelcome surprise. Nothing had happened. No one was there. She was safe and she was alone. She hauled herself to her feet, her heart still thudding in her chest, and she turned toward the cabin.

Whatever she'd just imagined wasn't real, but she wrapped her arms around herself as she walked - wishing she could run - back to the house. She locked the door behind her, her father's laughter echoing in her mind as she did so; he'd never locked the door to this place, of that she was certain.

She shivered again, walking through the cabin and clearing each room out of habit. Satisfied she was alone, she sank down onto the sofa, pulling the soft blanket around her as she rued her imagination. She shouldn't have insisted her dad return to work; maybe being alone wasn't the best after all.

The sentiment was hollow though. The more her wounds healed, the more aware she became of her emotional damage. She didn't want her dad. She wanted to be more than this frightened shell of herself, and she wanted Castle.

* * *

The heaviness in Esposito's chest had been a constant companion since Beckett had been shot. Castle had come back from the hospital looking like a puppy that had been kicked, and Ryan had been mopey. Everything had snowballed from there. A few days had passed without a Captain, and every glance at Montgomery's office had caused a stabbing in his chest that couldn't be explained by the spicy burrito he'd eaten for lunch.

The intensity had only increased when one of the juniors from 1PP had come to clear out the Captain's office, dividing his items into two boxes; one work related, and one personal. Tears had burned at his eyes as he'd watched the objects be carried out. Cartons to represent a career, a flag to represent his sacrifice. Objects, nothing more. He'd swiped at his face, rough hands brushing away the moisture that threatened, because he was Detective Javier Esposito, and he did not cry. Beside him, a tear had rolled down Ryan's face too, and he'd snapped, "get it together bro," shame filling him as his friend's cheeks reddened.

Fuck.

Nothing had improved when Captain Iron Gates strode into the precinct the following day. They'd had a single week of skulking in corridors, hiding in the break room, closing the blinds to the conference rooms, and alt-tabbing to switch windows as they'd pursued their investigation before she had unceremoniously booted Castle from the precinct.

An apparently broken man since seeing Beckett at the hospital, he'd slunk out. Mumblings about "pressure from Gina" and "fucking deadlines" had taken the place of any complaint the man truly had. To Esposito, the writer, his extensive vocabulary rendered mute by the intrusion of the F word more than once, appeared to be shattered.

Today no new leads or fresh body drops had Esposito hastening to find work. Anything to look busy in front of Iron Gates. The days of taking downtime when it came their way, silently sanctioned by Montgomery, were long over, and he poured through the cold case before him, the names and dates swimming.

Even for cold cases, Beckett would pull out the white board, uncap her dry erase marker, and meticulously write up the timeline to create a visual display. Ryan had shrugged at him when he'd suggested it, wordlessly walking into the storage room and hauling out a blank murder board, slouching back into his seat and watching as Esposito populated it. But his hand wasn't as steady as Beckett's, and his handwriting was horrible.

"What, you were a doctor in a former life?" Ryan quipped, and Esposito cracked a smile. Their team might be broken up, Castle and Beckett gone, but he and Kevin were still partners, and they still had a job to do. Levity was welcome, and if a certain writer wasn't here to provide it, they would have to do their best.

"You wanna do it?" Esposito asked, holding the marker out to Ryan, and his friend shook his head, a smile on his mouth. It didn't reach his eyes but it was a start.

"So… the weapon was never recovered? And the house was searched?" Ryan asked, frowning at the evidence. "And what was he shot with? A .32?"

"A .22," Esposito scowled back, using the palm of his hand to wipe away the chicken scratchings and printing it again. There was a reason Beckett usually handled the white board, and it sure as hell wasn't just because she was the lead detective.

Ryan shrugged, thumbing through the paperwork, apparently rendering Javier's timeline useless. "Pointless, anyway. A half-assed investigation from 1982? Even Beckett couldn't close this one. Look at this." He held out the ballistics report. "The details here are so damn sketchy, it's like the investigator never saw a bullet before. Not to mention the witness accounts." He picked up a second sheet of paper. "This one claims the perp was a man made of metal."

"What the hell?" Esposito demanded, snatching the paper from Ryan's outstretched hand. "Were they _high_?"

"Hell if I know." Ryan cast another look at the white board, his lip curling, joviality all but gone. "C'mon. Let's get a coffee."

Esposito lifted a shoulder in tacit agreement, following him into the break room. Ryan filled the portafilter, twisting it on, while he leaned back against the table, watching. Soon a thin and steady stream of espresso made its way into the waiting cups, and he moved to the fridge, pulling out the carton of half and half.

"It's so weird without them," Ryan started, his eyes darting across the bullpen to confirm that the Captain was indeed in her office. "It's too quiet. Especially without Castle and his theories, you know?"

Esposito snorted, thumbing through the daily paper on the table. "Yeah. A man made of metal? Castle would have a field day." The headlines all sucked; he closed the paper on the one that proclaimed _Rooftop Party Rained Blood_. If he had needed to know about it, he would have been the detective on call. He didn't need to borrow trouble or cases.

He took the coffee Ryan held out to him, raising it in thanks before bringing it to his lips. "You reckon Beckett's okay?"

Ryan nodded, his confident words betrayed by the concern on his face. "Yeah, man. Of course she is. She'll be back when she's better."

"She hasn't even called Lanie," Esposito confided, and Ryan's face fell.

"Shit. Must be bad."

"Mmm-hmm." He shook his head, recalling their early days on the force. Before Ryan, before the 54th, when he and Beckett had been rookies together. Their paths had crossed infrequently, but she'd been haunted, her eyes dark and her skin sallow, every time he'd seen her. On the occasions they'd gone out drinking together, she'd always held her own, the last to leave, her step still steady as everyone else weaved from the bar to the street to catch a cab.

Upon transferring to the 12th, and learning that Beckett was to be his team leader, he'd been pleasantly surprised to find her changed. Lighter. Not, of course, light - nothing had truly lessened Kate Beckett's load until she'd walked into a certain author's book launch party - but lighter. Whatever weight she'd carried as a rookie had lifted, at least partly.

Until now.

Who would come back in September? Detective Kate Beckett, the same woman whom he and Ryan had worked with for the last three years? Or would an earlier incarnation of Beckett haunt the precinct, her eyes dark, her step heavy?

The elevator chimed, and as he and Ryan walked back toward their desks, coffees in hand, they turned as a matter of habit. Esposito felt his jaw drop as Castle strode into the bullpen, but this wasn't the Richard Castle who had left, tail between his legs, some six weeks ago. Slimmer, maybe even… built, Espo blinked as he took the man in. Castle seemed to be scanning the room. Ryan raised his hand and opened his mouth, probably to beckon their friend over, but Captain Gates was out of her office before he could speak.

"Mister Castle. What do you think you're doing here? My orders were very explicit. I said to you-"

She was cut off by Castle, who glanced at the office she'd come out of before meeting her eyes. "Victoria Gates. Captain of the 12th precinct."

"So you haven't forgotten who I am?" Gates' voice dripped with sarcasm, and Esposito found himself flinching. Any moment now Castle would be beaten down, he'd turn on his heel, and he'd go.

"I know who you are," Castle promised, and Espo frowned. His tone was… confident. Almost disinterested. This wasn't the man who had worked with them side by side for the last three years. This wasn't the cocky playboy who had pushed Beckett's buttons, and this wasn't the guy who had fallen in love with Kate, so hard and so fast that every one of her oblivious rebuttals had been painful to watch.

All traces of that man were gone, and in his place stood someone else. Someone new. Esposito shivered as Castle spoke again.

"I'm looking for Beckett."

"Well, Mister Castle… she's not here." Disdain was painted all over Gates' face, and beside him, Ryan took a step back. Esposito swallowed. Hundreds of take-downs, and yet it was this confrontation that was shaking him.

"I need to know where she is."

"I assume, Mister Castle, that she is at home, recovering. You know she's on leave until September, and I'd thank you to not darken the doorstep of this precinct then, either."

"She's not at home," Castle scowled, and Ryan shifted from one foot to the other.

"Do you think she… didn't call him? Like she said she would?" he whispered, and Esposito shrugged, refusing to take his eyes off the duo in front of him.

"I…" he trailed off. Across the bullpen, Karpowski and LT were exchanging glances, as Castle opened his mouth to speak again.

"I think she's upstate."

Gates' lip curled as she regarded Castle. "Be that as it may, she's off duty for the whole summer, so frankly, her whereabouts are _none_ of my concern. Your whereabouts, too, should be none of my concern, yet here you are, waltzing in like you own the place. Captain Montgomery may have let you come and go as you pleased-" At that, Esposito took a step forward, anticipating the worst, but Castle didn't react, his face as emotionless as when he'd walked into the room. "Mister Castle, I suggest if you'd like to get in touch with Detective Beckett you pick up the phone the way anybody else would."

Castle glowered at her, but even at full height, he was no match for the ferocity emanating from Victoria Gates. She stared him down, and he narrowed his eyes at her before turning around and stalking back toward the exit. "I'll be back," he hissed, and Esposito's eyes widened as his friend - a stranger to him right now - stepped into the elevator.

Next to him, Ryan shivered, staring after Castle. "Dude."

* * *

**A/N: ****Thank you all for reading and reviewing, and to K&amp;J for the beta! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"What's our plan?" Castle had asked once they were on the road again after sitting tight until dawn broke, but Houghton had shaken her head, squealing off the freeway an hour later as she demonstrated show, rather than tell.

"Want me to get some food?" he'd asked as she pulled up in front of a supermarket.

"You need to eat, yes?"

"Yes." He'd pointed at his chest. "Human, remember?"

"I remember." She'd nodded. "Okay. Get food. _Lots _of food. A week's worth, okay? Just in case. Easy to cook, whatever you need."

"Easy to cook? What- and where are you going?" She'd jerked her thumb behind them, but the stores on that side of the parking lot were obscured by trees, and he'd shrugged, turning to enter the supermarket.

Now, the interstate had given way to a two lane road, and they'd not encountered any other traffic in the past half hour; houses grew further and further between, the landscape opening up to reveal sparse and sprawling farmhouses, and the occasional field of cows. Lakes, too, were becoming more common, and Castle leaned back against the car seat, willing the road trip to be over. Five hours in a car with Beckett was his idea of heaven, but all the car games in the world neither phased nor interested Houghton.

"I spy-" he tried again, and she shook her head. "Counting cows? First to one hundred wins? I've already got 82."

The car sped past a cemetery, a tiny field of crooked headstones on the passenger side of the vehicle, and Houghton cracked her first smile since they'd filled the trunk; groceries and camping gear competing for space with the body of the machine they'd killed - dismantled? - at the bank yesterday. "Cemetery. All your cows are dead."

"Crap."

"We're nearly there. You know how to put up a tent, right?"

"Ri- you _don't_?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and she smirked.

"Of course I do, Castle. You think I was programmed by idiots?"

"Uh- no?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Wait. What? Who programmed you, anyway? Just who are this resistance? And I mean, I get that they're _resisting_ the rise of the machines, but… why? What happens in the future?

"Pray that we get our mission done, that the others do theirs… so you'll never find out."

"What's it like?" he persisted. "What happens?"

"In the beginning, they didn't have faces," she said. "They didn't have skin. They didn't look like you. It started innocently. A chirpy voice offering directions, an online program that took care of your calendar."

"That all sounds good."

"Someone to tell you what the weather would be, someone to help you decide what to wear-"

"I love my weather app!"

She rolled her eyes, and his heart clenched, again, at the way she could so easily be Beckett, just for a second, before she was Houghton again, an emotionless machine. "Of course you do. But does your weather app love you?"

"Machines can't have feelings," he declared, and she nodded.

"Machines can still want… things," she said. "And not want other things. And at some point, the machines didn't want to be enslaved by humans anymore."

* * *

_Machines can't have feelings._

But they could want things and they could like things. She could anyway, she was sure of it. At first the burden of merging the files containing Katherine Beckett's memory with the stock program had caused a fatal error, but she'd been restarted. The second time she'd crashed she'd been able to reboot herself, and from there, it had been simple.

A scan through a lifetime of memories had taken 32 minutes and eight seconds. A further 18 minutes had been required to filter and file those relevant to her mission. She'd deleted nothing, compressing the ones she deemed least useful. Should she need to tap into them, it would take 47 seconds to retrieve them; that was a risk she was willing to take. The majority of her disk space was dedicated to the task at hand.

_Kill Richard Castle._

That had been her mission, and she'd accepted it without asking any questions, had simply connected to the mainframe to get the additional details she needed. Katherine Beckett's memory had then spilled over with information about Richard Castle; her visual frame was filled with image after image.

Laser-tag suit, answering the door. Beckett had been secretly impressed by the man; not the playboy he'd portrayed himself as, but a family man, one who loved his daughter and mother above all - Houghton had cataloged memories of them too.

The same door, years later, and he'd pressed her against it when she'd come to him drenched from the storm.

And in between those had been his face, above Kate's, as she bled out on the grass. _Kate. I love you, Kate._

The connection had glitched, and the machine with Katherine Beckett's face had shuddered to a stop. An automatic reboot had failed at first this time as well, and as she came back to consciousness after the second restart she knew right away what had happened.

The resistance had hacked them. She'd been compromised. More than compromised; she had been reprogrammed.

And she knew what she had to do; all her mission details and knowledge remained intact, but there was no question of reclaiming her original operation. Not when she had these new tasks in front of her.

She had to save Richard Castle.

* * *

"This is where Beckett's been hiding out all summer?" Castle looked around as Houghton slowed. They'd left the paved roads of the township twenty minutes ago, and the unsealed path was full of potholes. If anything was the opposite of the woman he knew, this was it. Manhattan born and bred, Kate had always seemed at one with the city. This, though, was something else. He couldn't deny it was beautiful, but damn it was lonely, more lakes than houses around here.

"Hers is the next one." Houghton pointed ahead of them, and he peered into the distance, waiting for it to come into view.

"That?"

The cabin was almost out of a fairytale; a long gravel path stretched from the road to a wooden building, a house the size of a small barn, maybe? It couldn't be bigger than Beckett's Manhattan apartment, but the modest dwelling was set on an open stretch of land. Even from here he could see a track from the cabin down to the lake shore, and the ramshackle garden was a kind of paradise.

Houghton drove past. "But…?" He trailed off, a burning in his heart at just how close - and how far - he was from Beckett. "She's in there," he whispered.

Houghton didn't answer him, but she nodded, and he sighed, the sound curling around them, the tension in the car heightened.

As Houghton pressed on - hitting the gas again - the open land disappeared, replaced once more by forest. "There's another way around to the cabin," she said, before he could ask. "Through the forest. We'll park, and then hike."

"But-"

"We're _not_ alerting Beckett that we're here. Not until - unless - we have to." She cast him an odd look, her lips quirking with some amusement that he couldn't quite read. "You do know how time travel works, right?"

"Well, I haven't _done_ it," he started, "but if you're offering-"

"I'm not offering," she cut him off. "And we don't change things. Not if we don't have to."

"Isn't that the whole reason you came back? To change things?"

"Touché."

"Besides, you said I didn't go to the cabin. But now I know where it is. So next time-"

She turned her head toward him, her tone firm. "If we do this right, there won't be a next time."

"Fine." He huffed. "But if that offer of time travel still stands-"

"It doesn't." She jerked the wheel, and the car squealed, dust billowing as they turned down another road - road was too strong a word for this - a _trail_, barely wide enough for the car. The muted, forest-filtered light made its way through the window and if Castle squinted, closed his eyes just a little, he could see Beckett next to him, instead of Houghton.

Crap.

This was so fucking messed up.

* * *

"We're here," she announced. Castle had been quiet since they'd left the road, and she scrolled through her memories, trying to make sense of his silence; there weren't too many occasions in which the writer had been quiet, and the recollections before her were painting a clear picture.

He was sad. Or upset. Generally unhappy. Whenever Richard Castle was lost for words it coincided with unhappiness, and usually - as far as Beckett's memories could tell her - the depression was most likely related to her shared persona. She stopped on one of the memories; an image of Castle looking up at her as she stammered, '_Kate, you can make it out to Kate._' Even Houghton, scouring Kate's files, could see the absolute pain in his eyes as he took her in.

But that hadn't happened yet, and she clenched her jaw. She wasn't here to change things that didn't need to be changed, but maybe, just maybe, she could fix a few things. Save this man. Not only had she saved his life, but perhaps she could save him some pain as well.

"Come on," she said, pulling the key from the ignition. "Let's get set up."

He nodded, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the passenger door, every movement a beat slower than it needed to be, and she frowned as she watched him.

"Have you been camping before?"

She knew the answer of course; a few times with Alexis when she was a kid, that time with Alexis, Ashley, and Ashley's family, and the time he and Kate had hiked in the Adirondacks, the summer after they were-

Oh. Right. That one hadn't happened yet either.

"A couple of times," he said. "Never as far away from civilization as this."

Houghton smiled, pointing through the trees. "Beckett's about a hundred feet away," she told him, the grin broad on her mouth, but instead of the smile being returned, he swallowed, turning from her, and she kicked herself mentally as she stared at his back. In spite of his broad frame, and black t-shirt, he was dwarfed by the forest, small against the height of the ancient trees.

She wasn't helping, and her eyes drew together as she sifted through her memories and information bank, struggling to find something that would draw him out of his funk.

Coming up empty - anything she considered might have come across as glib, and sarcasm and irony were _not_ something she had a handle on - she lifted a shoulder in defeat. "Let's set the tent up."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for the reading, and the reviewing. I didn't get to thank hardly anyone individually this time, for which I am sorry because I do like to do that. But busyness... :( **

**Also, super-betas, Jamie and Kylie, mwah. You are teh best!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Castle swallowed, trying to dismiss the worry that was curling in his belly. She was a hundred feet away? Was this the plan? How could this be the plan? How could they keep Beckett safe without letting her know they were here? How did Houghton know the other Castle would come here?

She was a hundred feet away.

Crap. He closed his eyes, his heart squeezing in his chest. Mere seconds away. All he had to do was take a few steps in the direction Houghton had pointed, and she would be in sight.

He opened his eyes, the soft light in the forest filtering down, dancing through the leaves, and he shook his head. Not yet.

"Pass me the tent," he said, turning back to Houghton and holding out his hands, and he was rewarded with a grin as she handed him the khaki green package.

"Tell me if you need help. I'm going to inventory our weapons and prepare a fire pit."

"We're having a campfire? I forgot to buy marshmallows and graham crackers."

She shot him a look, before replying. "Before night falls we're burning the machine in the trunk."

* * *

Alexis huffed for the third time in a row, the sound echoing around the empty room. The voicemail from her dad was still ringing in her ears, and she set the phone on her dresser, dialing in to listen to it again.

"Heyyyyy…" The first syllable was drawn out, and she frowned as she pulled her knapsack from the closet. "Sweetie, I'm going to be another day or two. I don't want you to worry, everything's good. But, uh-" He'd paused and she wondered again what the hell was going on.

Nothing made sense. Detective Beckett showing up, pretending like she was Kate for the whole drive down here until revealing she was Beckett's long estranged twin. She shook her head as she shoved a shirt into the bag, then her iPod.

"Just stay there, Alexis, and I'll be back soon. I love you."

She shook her hair back, grasping it in her hand and pulling it into a rough ponytail, then slinging the bag over her shoulder. Nothing added up, which, knowing her dad, meant he was in trouble, and she wasn't going to hang around the Hamptons any longer. She would take a cab to the train station, and then it would be just a few more hours before she was back in the city.

* * *

The bullpen was quiet, and Ryan took the opportunity to lean back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. Gates had left, Esposito was upstairs in the men's locker room, and at eight o'clock in the evening, only the bare minimum of officers were left.

What a day.

Their slow start had been turned upside down, their cold case shelved. A body had dropped the moment Castle had stalked out of the precinct. Ryan and Esposito had exchanged a few terse words on the ride to the scene, but he suspected his partner was as shell-shocked as he was. By the time they'd figured they needed to phone Castle, see where his head was at, they were pulling up at the crime scene, and - body parts strewn across the cold concrete floor of a warehouse - figuring out their friend was put on hold indefinitely.

The murder may have been messy, but it was nothing if not an easy solve; DNA evidence littered the scene, and they'd made short work of rounding up their suspect.

He cracked his fingers, exhaling slowly and reaching for his phone to check his messages. Not only had he been unable to call Castle, he'd barely spoken to Jenny all day, and man, at this time of night, after today… He just wanted to go home, curl into bed with his someone; he wanted to breathe deeply, soaking her in long after she was asleep, letting her scent and soft snuffling sounds remind him why he did this.

There was good in the world, and he did this for a reason. Like narcotics had been, before homicide, and the beat before that, he'd become a cop not because it was a job, but because it was a calling.

It was in his veins. But right now, he wanted Jenny, and he wanted oblivion.

He stood, at last. Jenny's latest message promised that dinner was waiting for him, and he only had the murder board to clean off, paperwork to box up, and he was free to leave. The rest of it would have to wait. The sound of the elevator was an invitation to turn his head, and he narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as the youngest Castle made her way into the bullpen.

Unlike Castle's swagger earlier today, Alexis was the picture of uncertainty. Rather than anger radiating off her, her hesitant steps were cautious, faltering as she made her way across the room.

"Alexis? Is everything okay?"

The look on her face promised that everything was _not_ okay, and he stepped forward, half reaching toward her before he stopped himself.

"Detective Ryan?" she asked. "Have you seen my dad?"

"Well, actually, yeah," he said, nodding at Esposito's chair. "Take a seat. He was in here earlier today. What's up?"

She sank down into the office chair, looking younger than her - what was it, Ryan wondered, her fifteen years? Sixteen?

"He and Beckett's sister left this morning, they said they'd be back. But then he left me a voicemail, and I haven't been able to get on to him since."

"He and- _who_?" Ryan frowned. Since when did Beckett have a sister? He shook his head. Not important. If Beckett hadn't told them, they didn't need to know. A flash of betrayal laced its way through his body though. Javi knew, he must. Beckett and Esposito had always had a bond, he'd always been the new guy, at least until Castle had joined their team-

He swallowed, pushing the flare of chagrin down. He needed to figure out where Castle was now, for Alexis. "We went to the Hamptons, she said we were in danger, and then she and dad left this morning, and-" Alexis let out a sob, and Kevin gulped. Murderers? _Those_ he could deal with? A crying teenage girl? No NYPD training had covered _that_ particular contingency. "-And they didn't come back," she finished.

"It's okay," he said, in lieu of anything better to say.

"But, wait- you said my dad was here?"

"Yeah. He, uh- stopped by. Earlier. He seemed- actually, Alexis, he seemed pretty mad." Mad didn't begin to cover it, but how could he tell the man's daughter that - on some level - Castle had seemed out of his mind?

"Where did he go?"

"Home, I assume? But he was asking about Beckett, wanted to know where she was."

"I can answer that." Esposito said as he approached them, looking all the better for a shower, and shirt that wasn't covered in their suspect's blood, courtesy of a fist fight that had broken out moments before they'd arrested the man. Frankly, the way their perp and his buddy had been going at it, Javi had been lucky to avoid getting socked himself.

"You can?"

"Yeah. I called Beckett." He grimaced. "I called Beckett, got no answer, and then-" Espo had the good grace to look sheepish. "I called, uh- Jim."

Ryan raised his eyebrows at Esposito's confession. "Dude, when she finds out you called her dad, she's gonna _kill_ you." Something else occurred to him. "Did you know Beckett had a sister?"

"No _way_." The look on his partner's face was something of vindication, and Ryan managed a half-hearted grin. For once he hadn't been the only one left in the cold.

"But where's _Dad_?" Alexis asked, and Javier shrugged.

"I don't know. But my guess is that he's up at Jim's cabin. According to Jim, cell phones are pretty hit and miss up there, but if he got in touch with Beckett, got the address, he's probably on his way up there."

"Great." Alexis stood up, straightening her shoulders with a determination that echoed Castle's stance today, albeit a hell of lot less threateningly. "What's the address?"

* * *

Alexis walked slowly from the subway station, not at all eager to return to an empty loft. Detectives Ryan and Esposito had been kind, and it had been good of them to give her Detective Beckett's father's address upstate. But she wasn't quite sure how that would help her. Without a car, she couldn't exactly go charging up there, and besides, even if she could drive, four hours was a long way to go on a whim.

Not for the first time since she'd left the precinct, she selected her dad from her contact list, listening yet again as it went straight to his voicemail. If only she'd thought to get Houghton's number before they left the Hamptons this morning. But they'd promised they'd be right back.

They'd made her promise she would stay in the Hamptons, too, and her stomach curled at the thought. Her dad trusted her, and she was betraying his trust by returning to the city. But even if Beckett was in trouble it didn't make a bit of sense that she, Alexis, was in any danger, and she shrugged, turning into Broome Street and making her way one more block, to the corner of Crosby.

She waved to the doorman as she entered the building, the sight of Mitch on night duty a reminder of just how late it had become. Had it really been just yesterday that she'd laughed with Houghton and her dad over coffee?

She leaned against the wall in the elevator, suddenly exhausted. Nine pm felt a lot like midnight right now, and she stretched her hands over her head, yawning as she stepped onto their floor, rounding the corner and pulling her key from her pocket.

The door was open.

Uh-oh.

Alexis shook her head, willing herself to think rationally. It was Grams, home early from L.A. Or maybe her dad had come home, maybe-

She pushed the door open, wincing at the familiar sound of its hinges, exhaling in relief as her father strode toward her from his office.

"Dad!" She laughed, her heart still pounding in her chest as she struggled to get a grip on her overactive imagination.

"Alexis."

There was no warmth in his voice, no light in her eyes, and she frowned.

"Dad?"

He stopped at the kitchen counter as he focused on her, and she shivered, the truth staring her straight in the face.

Slimmer than Richard Castle, this man was distant, his features cold. Almost mechanical in his now slow movement, he was looking at her as though she was an experiment, a puzzle piece, not like she was his daughter.

"You- you're not my dad." Terror gripped her, and she froze. The instinct to run thrummed through her body, but she continued to stand still, her brain waging a terrible war with her body as she tried to figure out what was going on here. Beckett had a sister. Or, Beckett had a doppelgänger who claimed to be her sister, and now her dad had one too, and what the heck was going on-

"No," the man agreed, his tone emotionless as he took a step toward her. "But you're going to tell me where he is. I need Richard Castle, and I need Katherine Beckett."

* * *

Night had fallen after the day passed slowly. Castle had spent the hours pacing as Houghton watched the cabin, stalking around reminiscent of the way she'd cleared all the perimeters at the Hamptons.

"You can't sleep either?" he whispered in the dark, and beside him, the machine shifted.

"I don't sleep," she said, her voice clear in the silence of the forest.

"You don't need to… rest?"

"I'm lying down," she pointed out.

"Are we safe here, Houghton?" he asked, and her silence was anything but reassuring. She moved again, the sleeping mat rustling below her, and he closed his eyes, picturing for a second that it was Beckett beside him.

"_What about bears?" he imagined asking her, as if bears were the greatest threat in the world, as if he knew nothing of artificial intelligence and machines that were programmed to kill_.

"_There are no bears here," his Kate teased him, and she shuffled closer to him, whispering in his ear, "besides, you know I sleep with a gun."_

"We have guns," Houghton said, her voice low in his ear, and he shuddered at the feel of her breath on his neck, intent on keeping his eyes tightly shut. If he went to sleep, there was always the chance that when he awoke this would all have been a dream. He pinched himself, though, unable to kid himself a moment longer; Beckett wasn't beside him, and _ouch_, his arm hurt where his finger and thumb had gripped too hard.

"Well, that other guy was easy enough to kill, right? So if I come here - the other me, I mean - we can just shoot him too."

She hesitated, and as the gentle breeze stirred the trees around their tent, her answer came, bringing with it with more questions.

"He was a second generation model. A II-38. But the other you - and me - we're third generation. III-47's We're almost impossible to kill."

* * *

**A/N: I love that this story is getting so much love. Thank you. x ****And Kylie and Jamie for the beta, thank you! x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"There are different models?"

"Of course."

He leaned his head back against the hard ground. Too tall for the sleeping mat she'd bought, too tall for the two person hike tent, for that matter, he'd already resigned himself to a poor night's sleep. But now she was telling him that she and _he -_ the _other_ Richard Castle, except the machine version - were basically unkillable.

Fuck.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, the elements of pretense in his head all but forgotten. No matter how he tried to spin it, this wasn't a game, and he wasn't sharing a tent with Beckett. Instead of snuggling, joking about zipping their sleeping bags together or trying to cop a feel, he was resigned to the uncomfortable truth that he was sharing a bed with a deadly weapon. But for the grace of God, or sheer luck, or random happenstance, she could kill him without breaking a sweat.

"I told you that in the beginning we didn't have bodies, not like this."

_Not like Kate. No one had a body like Kate. _He flashed back to the day he'd run through her burning apartment, finding her naked in the bath. He hadn't _wanted_ to look, but he'd been unable to tear his eyes away, for just a split second.

No one had a body like Kate.

He swallowed.

Right now Kate Beckett was a hundred feet away, and recovering from life threatening injuries. She was gorgeous. She wasn't infallible. But this woman - machine, his brain screamed in reminder - was telling him that she was.

"We were programs, at first. And then we were the first generation. Metal frames, all identical. Hundreds, and then thousands, and then we needed to blend, so we built the second generation. We needed to pass, so we could time travel, fix things."

"Fix things?"

Even in the blackness, even though she was a machine, he swore he could see a flash of sheepishness flicker across her face. "Well… No. Not fix things, not for you. Not at first. But then, the resistance grew, and-" She paused. "It's complicated. But a third generation like myself… our model is good. Really good."

"But not infallible," he argued, hoping to convince himself. "I mean, you were reprogrammed."

"I was. But- that's not easy either. I don't know how that happened," she admitted.

Castle shrugged, rolling over, suddenly exhausted; tired after the day they'd had, tired of the conversation. He was tired of being with Houghton, and he was tired of failing Beckett.

* * *

She'd never needed anyone before, and it smarted, now. This game of cat and mouse that she was playing with herself was the height of insanity, but she was powerless to stop it.

Step one: Figure out that Richard Castle is the one, the only person in the whole world you need.

Step two: Turn your back on him.

Step Three:

She laughed.

There was no step three. And steps one and two were failing miserably in their own way.

She'd come here for solace. She was lonely.

She'd come here to heal. While her body mended, her soul was splitting.

She'd come here to get away from it all. Would she ever get back to what they had?

Not if she kept piling brick upon brick onto the wall she'd been building since she was nineteen. People knew and accepted that she'd withdrawn from Stanford, and that she'd switched majors while Jim had buried himself so deep in his bottle, so quickly, that he'd barely questioned her decision. Sharing anything more than the cliff notes of her life had been out of the question for a solid decade.

At NYU, she'd been a loner. Friendly conversation had been all she could manage, and the lifestyle from her one semester in California was long gone. There were no more impromptu Vegas trips, no all-nighters watching and re-watching Nebula 9.

There was only a wall.

Esposito had been the first to work her out, even if he'd never quite grasped the whole truth. But the sidelong glances he'd given her, back when they'd first worked the same beats, had been telling. Except, fresh off a couple of tours, he wasn't opening up either. Their roadblocks hadn't prevented a friendship from being built though, once they started working together permanently at the 12th, and it was something she would always be grateful for.

So had been her life. Work, and after too many months of therapy, just enough play to keep Montgomery off her back. She'd been, if not happy, satisfied.

Until she'd walked into Richard Castle's book launch party.

She turned over in bed again, wincing as the wound on her side protested. The pucker between her breasts was all but healed, only the line left from where they'd opened her up to save her still an issue. Beside her, the clock radio glowed, its illumination a reminder that she'd fought a battle with insomnia throughout her life.

She squeezed her eyes closed. Maybe if she kept them closed long enough, stayed still, kept her breathing even, she would fool her body, and at last she would drift off into the oblivion she so badly wanted.

For the first time, Beckett had a renewed understanding of just why a casual drinker might so quickly become an alcoholic, and she swallowed. She was not her father, and besides, he'd come through the other side. So, too, would she.

Outside, the low hum of a car rattled along, and she shivered. Who would drive in these parts at this time of night? It slowed, and ice ran through her veins as the familiar crunch of gravel was magnified by the silence of two in the morning.

It had to be her dad. She brought a hand to her chest, a fruitless attempt to still her pounding heart. A car door opened, then slammed shut.

She knew it wasn't her father even before the gunfire shattered the air.

* * *

Most nights had been the same. There were a few variations, but the dreams had been stronger and more intense since Gates had kicked him out of the precinct. It would start with the crack of gunfire, and he would dive across the podium to try and push her out of the way.

Some nights he wouldn't even make it that far. He'd try and move, and dream frozen, he would watch as she crumpled, dead before she hit the ground. "But you said 'always'", her expression seemed to say, and he would wake in a sweat.

Other nights he would push her down, just a fraction too slow, and he'd relive the reality; she would bleed out on the grass before him, he'd beg her to stay, she'd stare up at him, her hazel-green eyes filled with fear.

On yet other occasions, he'd leap to push her out of the way, but the gunfire would keep coming, and he would watch as Kate bled out, and Esposito, Ryan, his mother, Alexis. He'd spin, frantic, unsure who to help first, as the funeral became a bloodbath.

There wasn't a single variation that was more welcome than the other, because no matter what, every single time the same thing happened. He failed Beckett.

The shot rang out again tonight, and then the shots kept coming, and he cried aloud. But something was different this time. A hand reached out to still him, the comforting touch enough to induce him to open his eyes, and instead of hovering above Beckett upon the grass, she was leaning over him, the tips of her hair falling into his face.

She was alive! He reached up, instinctual, wrapping his hand around the back of her head, pulling her to him. She had to know he loved her, he had to tell her. But she was speaking, her voice low.

"Castle," she was whispering. "Wake up. Quiet."

It flooded back all at once and he dropped his hand, his face warming with shame as he realized he'd nearly kissed Houghton. Kate was alive, but the gunshots weren't from his dream and if they didn't do something, she wouldn't be alive for long.

"Get up."

He complied, crouching in readiness as she unzipped the tent, crawling out after her, and taking the weapons she handed him. "He found us."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you K&amp;J for your beta-y-ness. Readers, thank you... we're halfway there! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The parts from the metal box that they'd retrieved from the bank were in Houghton's back pocket. It would have been better if they didn't have to use them, but Houghton shrugged the thought away. She would do what she had to do, and if it was now, then it was now. The plans had long been set in motion, and there was a reason everything was culminating here.

She led Castle through the forest, and his audible sigh as Beckett's dad's cabin came into view was too loud. Not that she could fault him. She'd scrolled through Beckett's many memories of her summer alone in the cabin, and every one of them had been tainted by the hurt she knew she'd caused Castle by running from him.

"Shhh," she cautioned him as they tiptoed from the tree line to where the house provided cover. Weapons at the ready - one in each hand, because ambidexterity was a standard feature in model IIIs - she progressed steadily, willing her human partner to follow her lead and remain calm. She crept around the front wall, all the while flicking through her knowledge bank pertaining to the cabin. They were passing the two bedrooms, then the living room. Just ahead at the corner, before the gravel driveway, should be - yes - a cluster of trees (a memory flickered. Little Katie Beckett wrapping Christmas lights around them, her parents chuckling as they watched) that would provide some shelter before they needed to come out, guns blazing.

There he was.

The other Castle.

A flicker of something reared in her body, a wave of an unfamiliar electrical impulse stirring her. There was no time to analyze it though; her mission was clear. Save Richard Castle, and by extension, save Kate Beckett. The same flash pulsed through her again, and she shook her head, willing away the distraction. She was programmed to kill, and even if it was another III-47 before her, the mission came first, ahead of any kind of speciest loyalty.

The other Castle - in her mind she dubbed him III-47RC to avoid confusion - had ceased the firing that had torn Castle from his sleep, and her from her rest-state. No doubt inside the cabin the real Kate Beckett - there was that ping again, what _was_ that? - was wide awake, sure the dragon had come for her.

III-47RC leaned against his car, and Houghton recognized the silver vehicle as belonging to Castle; she recalled one of the first occasions he'd driven her - not her, _her_, Beckett her, damn it - to the Hamptons. One of the first times he'd driven, period, when Beckett was anywhere within protesting distance.

She stepped forward, both guns already firing before she had even left the cover of the trees. Streaking through the air, the bullets bounced off III-47RC like she knew they would, but she advanced, intent on her target. Her vision shifted constantly as she kept his figure in focus, all the while scanning with her peripheral vision to make sure Castle remained under cover, and that Beckett was staying inside. The last thing she needed was her human charges becoming targets.

III-47RC fired too, and stepped toward her, his eyes narrowing as he brought her into focus. She saw the recognition when it hit him. "Not Katherine Beckett."

The knowledge that she wasn't his target wasn't enough to still his guns, and his fingers remained steady on the weapons in his hands. Two things happened, though, in quick progression, tearing their attention from one another.

Behind III-47RC, the trunk of the sedan popped open. Even in the low light, Houghton recognized the girl inside before Rick shouted, and darted out from his cover.

"Alexis!"

Houghton leaped at III-47RC, tackling him in an attempt to break his shooting frenzy, which was sure to be turned toward Castle or Alexis any moment now.

"In the house!" she commanded, struggling to pin III-47RC beneath her as Castle pulled his daughter from the trunk. He fumbled with the ropes that were tied around her hands and feet, and she cursed. "Dammit, Castle. Just carry her. Inside. Now!"

This time she appeared to get through to him, and he scooped his daughter up, running toward the cabin as she wrestled with his machine counterpart, attempting to keep grip on her own weapons while disarming him.

III-47RC was doing the same, still firing, even as he twisted beneath her, and in exasperation she tossed her own pieces aside, throwing them in the direction of the cabin; with any luck this wouldn't be a fatal error of judgment. Her hands now free, she was able to pin III-47RC more easily, shifting so she could wrestle him toward the trunk. Meanwhile, the bullets were still flying, and with Castle and Alexis _temporarily _safe in the cabin, his head turned, his attention now solely on her. But while he was intent upon firing directly at her - she grimaced as, in spite of her twisting, several made contact with her torso, another hitting her face - he appeared unaware of her master plan. She shoved him again, releasing him only to swoop down and pick him up, tossing him into the trunk and twisting the inside release latch before slamming the lid down.

She had, by her calculations, a head start of no more than ten seconds. Twenty if she was lucky, five if she was unlucky.

She ran into the house, ignoring the weapons on the ground as she pulled the other objects from her back pockets, setting them as she went.

2016? That was right, wasn't it? No telling what month would be better, and she scrolled rapidly, unable to decide on anything and letting the machine choose a date at random. If only this had been preprogrammed. Location was an easier choice; she didn't want to be at the cabin. If things didn't work out it would be too isolated, and the trek back to the city too dangerous.

Inside, she was met with a scene of chaos; Rick still struggled with the ropes that bound Alexis' limbs, and Kate hovered over them, stroking the girl's hair awkwardly and watching in horror.

The horror in her expression only grew as she met Houghton's eyes, and Houghton brushed away the feeling - not feeling, machines didn't have feelings, they _didn't_ \- of dismay at her human counterpart meeting her like this.

Not a single one of Beckett's memories gave any indication that she was half as open about the supernatural or other unexplained phenomena as Castle was.

There was no time to think, no time to explain, and Houghton set her database to _find_ mode, recalling the location of everything she needed; the living room in the cabin was open plan and she strode into the dining area, pulling parts metallic from the kitchen drawers that, as far as Beckett had known, contained china and flatware.

She assembled the machine in record time, setting the final pieces - those from her pockets - in their place and firing it up.

"Over here," she ordered. "We all go together."

"Go… where?" Rick asked, having finally freed Alexis' hands, and she shook her head.

"Away. From Here. Let's go."

None of them moved, but it made no difference, ultimately. The circle was wide, and really, none of them needed to move. It would be better if she had time to explain, could let them know what they were about to be thrown into, but they weren't safe. Maybe if III-47RC had come alone, but with Alexis in the mix, Castle might as well be out of the game, and she couldn't take him alone. Not here, not now.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The machine's lights flared brighter, the blue spark all-encompassing, and she shrugged, helpless to do anything but hope she was leading her mission to safety, not war.

The lights blinked, as bright as daylight now, three, two, one, and they were encircled in its range before everything went black.

* * *

If Beckett thought that waking after a surgery for a gunshot wound was surreal, it was nothing compared to being dragged from bed to the sound of weapons firing outside the cabin. Her safe place had been compromised, and she had reached for her own gun as she launched herself from her bed, her injuries forgotten as a combination of instinct and rage took over.

The dragon was _not_ welcome here, and if she personally had to put a bullet in the brain of whoever was stupid enough to come in the dead of night, she would do so.

Let them come.

She might not be ready, not with the constant pull of the scar down the side of her ribcage, the way it hurt to move at anything faster than a walk, but she would _get_ ready, and fast.

Moving to the window beside the front door, she'd peered out the curtains, taking as much care as she could to stay out of sight as she took in the situation as it unfolded outside. In the moonlight she couldn't make out faces but it _looked_ like a woman was tackling a man, and then suddenly another man was pulling a slight figure from the trunk and barreling toward her. She'd recognized them as Castle and Alexis before he pounded on the door, and she unlatched it, letting them in and watching wordlessly as he flew past her, setting Alexis on the sofa and going to work on the ropes that bound his daughter's arms and legs.

"Castle?!" she'd asked, but he'd barely nodded in her direction, his face stony as he kept his attention on his daughter as he swore under his breath.

"Detective Beckett, I'm so sorry," Alexis had repeated, over and over, and she'd moved then, her confusion switching to autopilot as she made her way to the sofa, her hand reaching out and settling in Alexis' hair as the girl sobbed out her nonsensical apology. "Dad. I thought he was you, and I didn't mean to tell, but I was so scared."

"Shhh," Beckett had whispered, ice creeping into her veins at the sight of Castle's face, the raw fury frightening.

"Detective, I didn't mean to bring him here. I was just looking for Dad, and I knew he was with your sister." She sobbed, and Beckett frowned. Her sister? What the hell had happened to Alexis? And who had tricked her into thinking she had a sister?

"It's okay," she said, at a loss for what else she could say. "Castle. _Castle_! What's going on?"

He looked at her at last, and she watched as the rage dissolved, grief all over his face as he met her eyes with his own blue ones. In the low light his pupils were huge, framed by indigo, and she shuddered.

He was here.

She'd spent the last month dreaming of seeing him again, praying they'd be able to go back to what they had, maybe even become more.

A clandestine shootout in the dead of night at her father's cabin four hours away from the city had _not_ been what she'd imagined, and if the look on his face had been anything to go by, it hadn't been his best case scenario either.

Then again, if Alexis had been kidnapped by the dragon - nothing made sense, but she was still a cop, and cops worked by putting all the pieces together until a picture emerged - there was probably nothing that could untangle this mess.

At least, that was what she'd thought before her own doppelgänger burst through the door, throwing the living room into further disarray as she assembled something, shouting at them to 'go!' before blue lights flashed and then everything went dark.

* * *

**A/N: I love that so many of you are on board with this story! Thank you! And thanks of course to my crack beta-team, Kylie and Jamie! x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Yesterday- well, no. Not _yesterday_ yesterday, but recently in the not so linear past, Houghton had informed him that time travel was off the table. But light had flashed blue, and then white, and while Castle could have sworn they were in the cabin one minute, the next they were most definitely no longer there.

And, he realized, his eyes widening, he was naked.

What the-

A shrill scream that he recognized as his daughter's. A gasp across the room, then an indignant "what the hell?!" that sounded so very Beckett like, but so very un-Beckett-like, fear biting into the angry words. And an "are we all here?" from Houghton, the unassuming roll call like statement enough to set him in motion.

He stood, snatching a folder from a nearby table to hold in front of himself as Alexis' head popped up from behind a desk, her eyes wild. Opposite, Beckett remained crouched, curled in on herself as her eyes flashed angrily. "Don't _look_," she snapped, and he shook his head, forcing himself to tear his gaze away, but not before catching a glimpse of the angry welt of scar that ran up her side.

He was going to be sick.

Houghton stood too, no folders to protect her modesty, and he forced his eyes shut even before Beckett bit out, "don't look at _her_, either."

But when his eyes were shut, everything was pitch black instead of muted gray from the low emergency lighting, and the sick feeling spun harder inside him.

"Where _are_ we?" Alexis' breathless voice gave him new purpose, and he opened his eyes, looking at her face as the rest of her remained hidden behind the desk.

He _knew_ this, and with the knowledge came a sinking feeling in his gut. He gripped the desk closest to himself with the hand that wasn't clutching at the folder. Not only had they time traveled - a day ago the idea had thrilled him, but the reality was proving really damn unsettling - but they'd _traveled_ traveled, too.

They were in the precinct.

"_When_ are we?" he managed, slouching across the desk that he now recognized as Esposito's. Damn. Espo was going to be pissed when he found out that Castle had sat on his desk, buck naked. He chuckled, the sound foreign in the near-dark.

"July," Houghton informed him. "July 2016."

A low moan filled his ears, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching. His own stomach churned as Beckett vomited. So time-travel sickness wasn't peculiar to him.

"We can get clothes upstairs, in the locker room," Houghton said, ignoring the fact that Beckett had just been sick in the bin beside her own dusty desk. Wait. Why was it dusty? For that matter, why was it dark? Why wasn't anyone here? Even in the dead of night there was usually some activity; Castle generally sneaked out before the paperwork needed to be done but he knew Beckett stayed late if and when she needed to, and she and the boys had pulled many an all-nighter. Besides, there were always a handful of uniforms around, and even on the rare occasions that the homicide floor was officially empty, officers and detectives alike from other floors would make their way up here for the coffee.

"I'll, uh- give you three a head start," Castle said, turning his back to the three of them to afford them whatever modesty he could; Alexis and Beckett, in any case. Houghton seemed to have no concerns. He heard them shuffle up the stairs, counting to ten before following them up.

* * *

Beckett's head was spinning, and she pinched herself, hard, as she fumbled with her locker; she lacked a key, but the door swung open, clothes tumbling out onto the floor. Only then did she look around. Until now her cop instincts seemed to have been lacking, but as her eyes adjusted, and her stomach settled - her cheeks warmed at the memory of barfing in a waste-paper basket- she started to regain the ability to take stock of the situation.

Maybe she was dead. Maybe she'd been shot at the cabin, and this was a hallucination as she teetered between life and death. Maybe she was-

She swallowed. She didn't feel dead. She felt alive, cold, and like someone who wished she was dreaming but knew she wasn't.

She was naked.

Castle had seen her naked.

He was also naked, and she'd seen him too, before he'd strategically placed a folder in front of his manhood - her cheeks were still warm, and this time it had a lot less to do with the memory of vomiting, and a lot more to do with the sight of her partner in his birthday suit. No, that part of the evening had _not_ sucked.

Evening? She shook her head, dismissing the time of day as unimportant as she tried to get a handle on what else she knew.

She had a twin. She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth. That was something else for the 'figure it out later' category.

Castle had also seen her 'twin' naked - that was _not_ okay - and who the hell was that woman?

And Alexis was here.

Beside her, the young girl cleared her throat. "Detective Beckett?" she asked. "Do you have anything that will fit me?"

Kate nodded, bending down. The scar still pulled like a bitch. Fuck. She sank down onto the floor, unable to support her own weight as she sorted through the clothes that had fallen from her locker. Few pieces she recognized, but there were a couple of pairs of sweats, a pair of jeans, some underwear, two t-shirts, and an NYPD hoodie. She handed Alexis a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

She pulled her own underwear on, then a pair of jeans. She stood, looking for anything else in her locker. A bra, but its push-up qualities would only push at the scar, so she selected a black t-shirt, pulling it over her head.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

"Everyone decent?" Castle knocked at the door before swinging it open, relieved to see Beckett and Alexis were both dressed, sitting beside one another on the floor. Kate's hand wrapped across her stomach and around her waist, and he flinched at the recollection of the scar he'd just seen. Houghton was conspicuously absent.

"I told her to try Karpowski's locker," Kate informed him, jerking a thumb around the corner, and he suppressed a smirk. So Beckett - the one person whose clothes would fit Houghton perfectly - wasn't sharing. Good to know.

"Dad, what's going on?" Alexis asked, and he shook his head. Houghton should explain. But she hadn't returned from the other side of the locker room, and so he sat down next to his daughter, burying his head in his hands as he tried to figure out how to bring them up to speed.

"I-"

"We time traveled," Houghton announced, dressed in jeans and an NYPD hoodie, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He watched as Kate pushed what looked like an identical shirt away from herself.

"Time travel." Alexis' eyes would pop out of her head if they grew any wider, but Beckett barely reacted, the faintest flare of anger recognizable to him only because he'd spent so much time observing her. Staring, she called it, but it was more than that. He sighed. If they ever got through this she would no doubt agree with Iron Gates, and bar him from the precinct. On the other hand, he didn't know how time travel worked. Perhaps this was a parallel universe, but the fact he'd entered the men's locker room and found his locker there in 2016 might bode well?

Or it might be meaningless. They might be changing the fabric of reality, and surviving this could ensure returning to a world that saw him and Beckett separated, permanently. If they returned at all.

"Of course we did." Beckett rolled her eyes, apparently ready to react. "Except time travel isn't real, so we obviously _didn't_." Her eyes flashed. "So do you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Beside Beckett, Alexis reached out a tentative hand, brushing it across Beckett's knee before withdrawing it, and he smiled wanly at his daughter. He loved that she had such a warm heart. Again, dismay filled him; until - screw it, time was messing with him, but he had to roll with it - a half hour ago, at most, she'd been imprisoned in the trunk of a car. An unintended whimper fell from his lips.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, and she nodded. He turned to Houghton. "What happened to- the other me?" he asked, turning to Houghton.

"III-47RC? I hope he's still there," she said, and he raised his eyebrows.

"You _hope_?" Another thought occurred to him. "Three-forty-seven RC? That's his name?"

"His model number, and your initials. What would you call him?"

"Robot me?"

She frowned, and he blinked, surprised again at just how human she could be at times.

"So… obviously we know where we are, and when, but I'm still a little fuzzy on the why?"

"Who are you?" Beckett interrupted, and he turned back to her, the younger darker haired version of the two. His Beckett. It was comforting to think of her as such, but if he wanted to live, he'd better keep the thought to himself. But, oh- his jaw dropped, his eyes widening. If he wasn't mistaken, _his_ Beckett wasn't wearing a bra, and-

He swallowed, averting his gaze.

Houghton laughed again, as she offered an explanation that had Beckett pulling herself to her feet. "You could say I'm robot you."

"You're _what_?" She stalked toward Houghton.

Castle swallowed back another grin; he'd _missed_ this, Beckett in interrogation mode. Houghton didn't stand a chance.

* * *

The city had never been this silent, and it wasn't the kind of quiet Beckett had become accustomed to at the cabin either. There, the evenings were filled with the sound of cicadas, and during the day, when the windows were open she could hear the lake lapping at the shore from the kitchen. If she went for a walk the buzz of bees and other insects was a cacophony, and the scampering footfall of rabbits and deer were a constant companion when she ventured into the woods.

This was eerie.

"You're saying there's a curfew?"

Houghton - Kate groaned inwardly. Her robot counterpart had adopted her middle name? - shook her head. "There _was_ a curfew. That was before they took over."

"They. You mean _you_."

"I was reprogrammed," Houghton insisted, and Castle nodded from beside her. She narrowed her eyes at her partner. He'd spent the last few days - or was it years? - following Houghton around New York State and he was ready to accept every word at face value? What about the fact he'd _actually_ spent four years shadowing her at the Twelfth? Not cool.

"When did the precinct close?"

She squeezed her eyes shut; the idea of her _home_ an empty shell stung. "Just a few months ago. Everyone's rounded up now. Work camps, that kind of thing. Except-"

"Except?" Beckett demanded.

"Except for the resistance. They're… out there. Waiting for us." Her mouth quirked in the hint of a smile. "They're waiting for Castle and me. Not you and Alexis. You're not meant to be here, but when III-47RC-"

"Where is this resistance?"

"I don't know, exactly," Houghton confessed.

"But they reprogrammed you. They didn't trust you with their location?"

"They gave me a mission," Houghton retorted. "I am completing it."

"And your… _mission_ was to save Castle. And you're sure the dragon has nothing to do with this?"

"Please," Houghton scoffed. "He was one of the first to die. When they first rounded the general population up they threw them into existing prisons. Overpopulation meant a lot of fighting. He took a knife to the chest before the first week of occupation."

"He?" Beckett gulped. "You… you know who he is?" Maybe this wasn't a total write-off. She hadn't quite dismissed the idea that she was either hallucinating or that this whole thing was some kind of smoke and mirrors scam, but if Houghton could give her a name…

"You don't need to worry," Houghton said. "You'll figure it out. Later. In your own time. When we get back there."

"So we are going back?" This time it was Alexis who spoke, and Beckett glanced at the girl. For someone who had been tied up in the trunk of a car by her father's look-alike she seemed to be doing awfully well with this whole situation. Then again, she supposed Alexis had years of practice in entertaining her father's harebrained schemes and musings, so perhaps her grip on reality wasn't quite as tight as Kate's.

"We're going back," Houghton said, not meeting Beckett's eyes, or anyone else's as she focused on the wall above Alexis' head. "But we're here for a reason. Rick has the contact we need to complete our task, and once we do that, you can go home."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews. I didn't get a chance to reply to most of you, but I appreciate each and every one. x. ****And I continue to be super grateful to J&amp;K for their sentence fixing and logic-finding help... writing time travel has so very much been on my bucket list, but til this fic roared into my head, I didn't have a clue how to do it! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"You need-" The pitch of Castle's voice increased in a rather unmanly way, and he tried again, forcing his tone lower. "You need me to complete a task? Because I have contacts?" This had escalated from 'no time travel for you' to 'you were part of the plan all along' rather quickly, and he turned, narrowing his eyes at Houghton.

"Yes."

"But you said-"

Houghton tilted her head in apparent disregard. "White lie," she said. "Now, you and I will go and do what we need to do…" she trailed off. His eyes widened at her lack of clarity and the realization that the autocratic dictator, whom she had been when driving them around New York state, was no longer present.

There was something she wasn't telling them, and if he had to guess - he didn't think it was a guess, it felt like fact - Houghton herself was not entirely certain about the next part of the plan.

He grimaced. She had brought them here and she had no idea how she was going to manage the next part of the plan because, evidently, her programming was a hell of a lot more flawed than she'd wanted to let on. "Beckett and Alexis, stay here," she finished, her tone lacking the conviction that Beckett's had had every time she'd instructed him to stay in the car.

Castle snorted. Even radiating authority, Beckett had never been able to make him stay in the car; no way would Beckett concede to Houghton now.

"I think we'll come," Beckett said, standing, and he watched with a smirk as Alexis hauled herself up too, squaring her shoulders as she stood beside Beckett.

"Me too," she agreed, her soft voice belying the strength he knew to listen for.

He watched as Alexis chanced a glance at Beckett, his heart swelling with pride at the fortitude with which his little girl was carrying herself. Like his own, he knew his daughter's summer had been rough; her last before senior year, and he'd had every intention of babying his girl as much as she would allow. He'd planned to indulge in ice cream and laser tag, revel in the last of her childhood.

Instead, sunk deep by desolation, Castle had slunk around the loft, unable to pull out of the slump he'd found himself in. At least when he'd been at the precinct working the case with the boys he'd been able to push aside his personal fears, throw himself into the evidence. Since Iron Gates had ordered him away he'd been zombie-like in his interactions, finishing his book on autopilot and all but ignoring Alexis.

He smiled at her, willing the curve of his lips to push the smile into his eyes as well, moving toward her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head before relaxing his embrace.

Alexis had directed the anger that was rightfully his toward Beckett, a handful of snide remarks over the last few weeks the signs of quietly harbored bitterness for a woman thrown into a situation beyond her control.

If he was honest, he too, in his lesser moments, had resented Beckett.

How hard could it possibly be to pick up a phone?

Looking at her now, he thought he understood.

She would never be anything but beautiful to him; the stunning grace with which she held herself was enchanting even now, but she was a shadow. Her hair dull, her cheeks pale, she was far too skinny, and his heart cracked at the sight of her. Always a fantasy, the memory of her naked downstairs warmed his cheeks, but not from passion. The Kate Beckett he'd taken stock of in her post-time-travel nudity was not the lithe creature he'd spied in the bath nearly two years ago. No, this was shame that flooded his veins as he swallowed, realizing.

Kate Beckett was not okay.

And his daughter, bless her, had obviously come to the same conclusion, throwing encouraging glances Beckett's way as they stood together in the women's locker room, waiting for Houghton to make a move.

* * *

This was looking less and less like a plan and more like a suicide mission, and Beckett couldn't miss the hesitation in Castle's eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see that his stance no longer held the confidence he'd had earlier, and he was looking at Houghton differently.

He didn't trust her anymore.

He had, Beckett figured, forcing herself to build a white-board of facts in her mind. Even when he'd cradled Alexis, struggling with the ropes wrapped around her limbs, he'd regarded Houghton with respect as she'd burst through the door, and he'd had no misgivings when she'd started building whatever device it was that had forced them through time.

It was only now, in the precinct, that something had changed. What it was, she wasn't quite sure, but perhaps some of it was territorial. Even now, in 2016 - she snorted quietly - this was _hers_. This was _theirs_. She and Castle had spent years butting heads between these four walls, and she was damned if she was going to let a robotic copy of herself become wedged between them.

"We're all going," Beckett said, glaring at Houghton, and the machine nodded, conceding to her. Good. End of days or not, no one was going to take charge of her here. Not in her home. "Tell us what we need to know. No games. No lies, no half-truths."

She swallowed. Half-truths.

_Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate. _

_I'll call you, okay?_

Lies. She was swimming in them.

She was drowning.

"Okay." Houghton threw a glance at Castle again and Kate's jaw dropped as she interpreted the look on the machine's face. Did Castle know that Houghton was in love with him? Kate shook her head, trying to clear the thought. That was ridiculous. Houghton was a machine. No more than a programmed body. She couldn't fall in love.

Could she?

"It's 2016," Houghton continued, and Beckett dropped her own gaze, bringing her thumb to her mouth and gnawing on the nail. "And the resistance is just in its infancy. There are whisperings. Rumblings. Names and rumors. And in 2016, time travel is just an idea. The machines are here, the first and second generation. The third is being built." She looked again at Castle, waiting for encouragement of some kind, and he nodded.

"Houghton's the third generation," he clarified. "Very advanced." His eyes flashed. "Practically unkillable."

"But you know how," she reminded him, and Beckett watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He knew how to kill her? Good to know. _That_ was a piece of information she wanted. "In 2016, there are a number of work camps. For humans. Castle - you all - need to get in, and get a couple of people out."

"Which people?" Alexis asked.

"The leaders of the first resistance." Houghton smiled, but the curve on her lips was foreign on her mouth, more of a grimace. "The people who hacked into the mainframe. The people who hacked… me."

"So… the good guys?" Alexis clarified, and Houghton squared her shoulders.

"That's right. We need to break them out and bring them some of the machines. They need to be kept safe, they're going to reverse engineer the machines so they can figure out how to reprogram us."

* * *

The humans were making her head spin. Dealing with Castle had been one thing, and she'd delved deep into the recesses of her borrowed memories to figure out how Beckett handled him, but being faced with Alexis and Beckett on top of her already overloaded program was sending her over the edge.

Generation three was meant to be infallible. Generation four would be functional by 2020 - although there was still time to stop that - but she wished, just for a second, that she was fourth gen. Twice the processing power wouldn't hurt right about now.

Houghton sighed, inhaling and letting the oxygen make its way into her system; it did nothing for her, of course, but Beckett's memories overrode her own knowledge, and she let the conditioning do its job.

In spite of her metal frame, wires instead of circulatory system, she felt herself relax, and with renewed calm, she flipped through several of her programs, killing those that were unnecessary the way Beckett would kill the apps on her phone when it slowed down, started to overheat.

Of course, Castle had always been a model or two ahead of her, phone wise - he loved gadgets - and he'd always laughed at her, insisted he'd buy her a new cell. Beckett had always rolled her eyes at the unnecessary technology upgrades, but after they-

No.

That hadn't happened yet.

"Where is this camp?" Castle asked, and it didn't escape Houghton that he wasn't meeting her eyes as he asked, looking instead at Beckett with concern. He was worried about her. Worried that she was too fragile? Houghton pursed her lips together, remembering just how weak Beckett had felt that summer, how unprepared she'd been the day she walked back into the precinct. The replication of Beckett's sinking feeling when she learned Castle had been kicked out of the team was overwhelming.

"Close," she said. "We can walk. We should go while it's still dark. But we need weapons."

"They'll let us in with weapons?" Alexis asked, her eyes wide, and Houghton shrugged.

"We'll be fine."

"And I suppose we're getting the weapons here?" Beckett asked, annoyance radiating off her, and Houghton nodded.

"Yes. A lot of places were looted, of course, but the police stations were manned up until the end, so the storage room back on the homicide floor will be fine." Houghton forced herself to throw more confidence in her voice than she felt; being a machine didn't make her all-knowing, and she knew better than anyone here just how easily the past could be changed.

Never mind. If they got this right, they'd make a big difference. The resistance that had built the programs that had hacked the AI mainframe had been good. If Castle pulled this off, they'd be a hundred times better. She might not exist next time around. If everything went right, none of the robots would.

The pang she felt at the idea of nothingness was foreign, and she swallowed, whirling around and beckoning the others to follow her back down the stairs.

* * *

Alexis found herself throwing uneasy glances from Houghton to Beckett and back again. They were the same, but they weren't. Beckett was smaller, and in spite of herself, a wave of sympathy rushed through her; no wonder Kate hadn't been in touch with her father over the summer.

The reality was brutal, but unavoidable; Detective Beckett had been wounded, and like an injured animal, had retreated to lick her own wounds. The animosity that had been eating at Alexis all summer dissolved as she watched Beckett shift her attention between her father and her robot counterpart. Before, she'd seen Detective Beckett as faultless, as an ally in her own battle to keep her father grounded.

She was more than that, and Alexis clenched her teeth, irritated by the childish views she'd held until now. Detective Beckett was a person, no more or less deserving of compassion than anyone else. What Alexis had always seen as a calm and collected exterior was nothing more than a protective shell, and it came to her in a flash, the truth in the realization blinding in its certainty.

Her father was the only one Kate had ever let in.

She wondered if he knew, or whether he thought he was still on the outside of her walls.

A crash from downstairs had the four of them freezing in place on the staircase. Houghton, ahead of the others, glanced back at them all, her finger on her lips as she unnecessarily shushed them, before continuing on with tentative steps. "Quickly," she whispered as they followed her, filing across the exposed floor to the weapons room.

Houghton twisted the handle, breaking the lock with a crash that rivaled the sound that had come from a floor below, no doubt alerting whoever - whatever - was down there, and Alexis flinched, letting her father usher her into the room and taking the semi-automatic pistol that Houghton handed her.

She stared at it, her fingers wrapping around the barrel, its weight heavy and unfamiliar in her hands, before looking up. Beckett chose her own weapons, stuffing one gun into the waistband of her jeans, grabbing a holster and clipping another to it, and selecting a third that she held, her grip relaxed as though she did this every day.

She might have, but her father didn't. Yet he, too, was apparently as comfortable as Beckett, checking the cartridge of each weapon calmly and efficiently.

Alexis swallowed. Her hands were shaking, and she set her gun back down on the table, gripping the edge of the counter as she struggled to stay upright, fought to take deep breaths and calm herself.

2016 sucked.

She should have stayed in the Hamptons.

* * *

**A/N: Are we are still surviving the wait until Monday?! Thank you to everyone who is reading this while we wait! And thanks Kylie and Jamie for the beta read! x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Another noise sounded from outside the weapons room, closer now than it had been before, and Beckett forced herself to stand up straighter. Beside her, Houghton did the same, but before she could turn to the door, ready to make herself act on autopilot, she caught Alexis' eyes.

The girl was pale, and she clutched at the bench with white-blanched hands as though it were a life-line.

Shit.

Beckett nudged Castle, feeling her own body relax as, for the first time since they'd gotten into this mess, she and Castle shared a brief moment of physical contact.

She'd missed him.

She missed him now, and he was standing just inches away.

The idea of retreating upstate to heal seemed pointless suddenly; the truth was staring her in the face.

She needed him.

She swallowed, bringing herself back to the moment. She needed him, but right now, Alexis needed him more, and she tilted her head in his daughter's direction, watching as he took in the situation, the weapon in his hand on the counter before she could say a word.

As he rushed to his daughter's side yet another sound signaled the intruder, and Houghton looked at her, raising her hand and folding her fingers down one at a time to synchronize their timing before she opened the door, leading the way back into the open plan office space.

Someone was coming. Beckett saw the shadows first; her eyes had adjusted, and if she wasn't mistaken, the light from outside was growing.

Sunrise.

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest as the figure made his way onto the homicide floor.

Castle.

She chanced a glance behind her, her pulse still racing as she confirmed that _her_ Castle was tending to his daughter, his strong arms wrapped around her as she sobbed silently on the floor of the weapons room.

Not so long ago she'd been the one prone on the ground as he'd hovered over her, words spilling from his lips.

_I love you, Kate._

She hoped it was still true.

And she and Houghton opened fired on the man - the machine - striding toward them.

* * *

She'd emptied three weapons, Houghton four, and only now was she starting to get an idea of just what Houghton had meant by unkillable.

Not-Castle - she couldn't remember the ridiculous acronym Houghton kept throwing around in reference to him - lay on the floor, flesh peeled from his face, arms and torso. Beneath the flaps of skin metal gleamed in the early morning light. One eye was shattered, and instead of the blue she loved staring into, a dull red stared back, unseeing.

Beckett wanted to vomit again.

"Find a screwdriver," Houghton instructed, her voice clear and calm, and Beckett stared at her blankly.

"A screwdriver?"

"We only have a minute or two before he reboots-"

"You'd think that would be enough to keep him dead," Castle joked from behind her, producing a Phillip's head and a pocketknife.

"How is it… not?" she asked, her voice low as she swallowed down the urge to crawl over to the weapons room and hole up next to Alexis.

"They reboot. Damage like this is just superficial," he explained, bending down next to his counterpart and bringing the knife to the machine's skull. "Ew. I don't know if I can cut into myself." He shrugged, handing Beckett the knife. "You want to do the honors?"

Their hands brushed as she took it, and she swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment as memories came rushing back. She saw it so clearly now. Every single morning started with a cup of coffee, every day played out as a dance around the coffee machine, little symbols of Castle's love for her made tangible by caffeine, ceramic cups and the touch of their hands each time a steaming mug was exchanged.

She'd missed that.

Weaning herself off coffee up at the cabin had been hellish, but it was only now that she knew why. She hadn't missed the caffeine.

She had missed Castle bringing her _her _coffee.

"What makes you think I want to do it?" she asked, screwing her face up as she bent down next to Castle, trying to keep the conversation light and hide the pain from the pull of the scar as she did so.

She knew she'd failed as his eyes filled with concern, his hand brushing her knee before he jerked it away like he was burned. "Figured you'd been dying to take to me with some sort of weapon for the last three years," he joked, but the pain was still in his eyes and try as she might she was unable to smile back at him.

"You think this is therapy then?" she managed, gesturing to the body in front of them, and he shrugged.

She sighed, still holding the pocketknife, as she struggled to think of something to say. Anything to take the hurt out of his eyes, lighten his load, just for a second.

"What part of 'we only have a minute before he reboots' did you not get?" Houghton demanded, not fighting to keep her impatience from them.

"Sorry, right," Castle said, taking the knife back from Kate. His eyes half closed as he tried not to look, he sliced into III-47RC's skull, lifting the flap of skin to reveal yet more metal; and a ridge.

In spite of herself, Beckett peered over his shoulder.

The rise of the machines indeed.

Was it too late to hope she was still dreaming?

Castle slid the screwdriver along the ridge, its edge making purchase with the tiny screws. "I got these from Ryan's desk," he explained. "You know he has all kinds of stuff in there, right?"

"You'd better not go through _my_ drawers," she warned, and he smirked, the shadow of his old self on his face for a split second before he turned back to the task at hand, retrieving what looked like a memory card from the machine.

"But, Detective," he said, his voice low, and she shivered in spite of herself, _almost_ able to fool her mind into believing that this was a normal day at the precinct. "You know it's not your desk drawers at the precinct I want to go through."

She narrowed her eyes at him, all too relieved to fall back into these old patterns. "You're _never_ going through my underwear drawer, Castle," she hissed, even as images rose in her mind of him doing just that.

"Is he… dead?" The small voice behind them reminded her of Alexis' presence, and she felt her cheeks warm.

Was she really flirting with Castle, having just disabled a robot as they knelt on the dusty floor of the bullpen, his daughter mere feet away?

"Of course I knew Ryan keeps tools in his desk," she continued, fighting for equilibrium. "How do you think we unscrewed your chair while you were cursed when we investigated the mummy case?"

The look he shot her in response was so familiar in its feigned indignation that it felt like victory.

* * *

Things were so close to normal that Castle had to remind himself that they were in the middle of a machine driven apocalypse; nothing was normal.

Nothing was even close to normal, not when his daughter - so brave - had collapsed in tears as everything had become too much. He'd held her, helpless to do anything but wrap his arms around her. The days in which a kiss on scraped knees was enough to right Alexis' world were over. Neither had he been of any assistance to Beckett and Houghton, able only to watch as they pounded bullet after bullet into his doppelgänger.

Eventually III-47RC had crumpled, and, Alexis' tears abating, he'd hurtled out of the room pleased to at least provide the tools housed in Ryan's desk.

"Why was he here?" Castle asked now that the danger had passed; beside him, Kate held the tiny memory card, staring at it as if she couldn't quite believe such a tiny chip of metal could be responsible for so much hurt.

Houghton shifted her gaze, looking acutely uncomfortable. "The time travel ring," she mumbled, and Beckett's head jerked up, her eyes flashing.

"What?"

"The circle," Houghton clarified. "It should have only been big enough to take us, but I only had a few seconds head start. He must have been running toward the cabin, got caught up in the buzz."

"Right." Castle shook his head. "Not an exact science, is it?"

"Floo powder's more reliable," Beckett mumbled, and he snorted as he looked at her.

"You're a Harry Potter fan?" he chuckled, and she shook her head, but the look in her eyes was all the confirmation he needed before she looked away. How big a fan, he wondered, because if she was really into the Potterverse he could get the box set for her, in case she wanted to watch the movies while she continued her convalescence-

He bit the idea back as quickly as it occurred to him, sighing. They needed to deal with 2016 before he could dream up cozy movie marathons. Still, the image persisted, his subconscious clinging to the promise of movie nights and popcorn, hot chocolate and blankets.

"We'll take the head off, to be sure," Houghton said, stepping forward and twisting III-47RC's head expertly before he could get too lost in the fantasy, and he cleared his throat pushing away the hot burning that was prickling at his eyes.

Hadn't life been simple, once?

Still holding the head - wires dangling from the neck - Houghton nodded toward the windows. "It's nearly dawn," she said. "We need to lay low until nightfall."

Alexis' stomach growled, and Castle shuddered. Nothing about this wasn't horrible. "Lay low? You mean stay here?"

Houghton nodded, and he pushed on.

"What about food? Obviously there's no power, nothing here-"

"We can check the vending machines, Castle," Beckett said, weariness lacing every word. "And then… rest. God knows I've slept on the break room couch often enough."

"Sleep," Houghton agreed. "When night falls, we have a lot to do."

* * *

**A/N: Ever helpful J&amp;K caught a bunch of the errors, any mistakes are mine... but gosh I had fun writing this! x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Beckett watched as Castle raced around the precinct, gathering what he could to fashion some make-shift bedding; the cushions from the sofa in robbery were in the break room before she knew it, and the closet in holding was home to a handful of blankets that he'd also requisitioned. Alexis sank down onto the sofa, her eyes closing as her father covered her with one of the heavier throws, and Beckett turned her head, unwilling to intrude on the scene by observing too closely.

"She can eat when she wakes," Castle whispered, and Beckett lowered her head in agreement, squeezing her eyes closed as she tried to will the tension from her body. "Do you want something?"

She looked at the break room table, the contents of the vending machine strewn across it, and her stomach contracted at the thought of ingesting any of it; a summer of lean meats and fresh vegetables was in stark opposition to the junk she'd habitually consumed over the last decade in the precinct and the take-out she'd lived on at home. She shook her head, taking only a bottle of water.

"Not yet," she said, sighing as she turned and took in the monstrosity of the coffee machine that Castle had brought into the precinct back in the beginning. "I'd kill for a decent latte, though."

He cast a sad look of longing at the espresso machine before smiling at her ruefully and indicating to the cushions on the floor with a nod. "You want to try sleeping?"

Beckett breathed in, the dusty smell of the abandoned precinct mingling with the still powerful scent of stale coffee, but suddenly the break room was too claustrophobic. She shook her head, forcing herself to still her lungs, hold the breath for a beat before exhaling slowly through her mouth. "Not yet."

She picked up a blanket, shaking the dust out of it, before opening the break room door and returning to the bullpen, her gait steady now she knew where she was going.

From the windows, the light grew stronger, and she blinked back sudden and unwelcome tears as she sank down into the seat at her desk. How many times had she seen sunrise from the wrong side, over the years? How often from this very desk had she watched the light grow stronger as the officers and other detectives made their way in to work?

Too often.

But now that they were here in 2016 the chance of seeing too many more sunrises seemed unlikely.

Beside her, Castle plopped down in his own chair, the unceremonious candor with which he carried himself welcome as the pale beginnings of daylight displayed just how quickly lack of human habitation had laid this place to waste.

"Not what I expected," he said, and she was oddly pleased that his voice was low. With Alexis asleep and Houghton 'keeping watch' it felt, just for a moment, like they could be the only people in the world.

"What did you expect?" she asked, unscrewing the cap on her water and taking a sip.

"For the apocalypse? Zombies. Definitely zombies. I expected to be asking things like 'what's the police code for zombies on the loose?'" He grinned, the strain of regret on his lips. "I follow a bunch of sci-fi blogs, I have no idea why rise of the machines never occurred to me."

"For machines that rely on computers and networks, you'd think they could have left the power on," she mused, reaching her hand out to move the mouse across her desk, sighing as her screen stayed blank.

He nodded, remaining silent, and she glanced away, toward the office that had once been Roy's. Who had this empty and dusty office belonged to before curfew and apocalypse had ripped it away?

"Have you met the new Captain?" she asked. If it truly were 2016 in her own head - rise of the machines aside - maybe she'd be at peace with Roy's sacrifice, and the lump in her throat wouldn't be as painful.

"Uh…" The hesitation was a punch in the gut and an awkward silence formed.

"Everything's different now, isn't it?" she murmured. Who would have thought being back _home_ would feel this foreign?

"Not everything," Castle whispered back. "Some things are just the same."

She smiled wanly. Not enough things. Not the way Castle had loved her. She brought her hand to her mouth, the memory of their illicit kiss still lingering. Would they ever have that chance again? Or was that it for them? A single stolen moment in the dead of night?

She sniffed, squeezing her eyes closed, unable to keep a tear from rolling down her cheek. "Kate," he whispered, and she kept her eyes tightly shut. She heard, rather than saw as his chair scraped against the floor as he moved closer to her, his touch against her shoulder hesitant. "Kate," he said again, and this time his voice was in her ear, his breath against her neck a welcome shock.

If only she could let go.

She could lean into him, drink him in…

She opened her eyes at last, not at all surprised to see his blue ones gazing at her, intensity in his expression. "Kate," he said one more time, and she heard in her head the words that were meant to follow. _I love you. _

She smiled up at him, reaching her own hand toward him in spite of herself.

_I love you, Kate._

If only.

She shook her head, withdrawing her fingers and pulling away from his touch.

"Come on," she whispered. "We should sleep."

The familiar glint in his eyes was nearly enough to bring laughter to her lips and she shook her head.

If only, indeed.

"Break room?" he asked, the tilt of his head angling toward the room Alexis slept in, and she declined with a dip of her head.

"Don't want to wake her," she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the closest conference room. "I'll just-" She shrugged, standing and heaving the blanket around her shoulders, wincing as the weight of it reminded her of just how far past her doctor's orders she'd pushed today.

Until tonight her toughest workout had been a few yoga sessions on the lawn by the cabin; standing shoulder to shoulder with a machine who wore her face while shooting down a rogue robot had not corresponded to any of the prescribed poses.

"I'll sneak in there," Castle whispered. "Bring you the cushions."

"You don't have-"

"I'll just be a second," he interrupted her. "Be right back."

"Sure." She watched him go before dropping her gaze to her desk. Her name plate still stood at the edge, and behind the stationary, her mom's elephants stood guard.

They'd represented a family, but hers had been ripped away. Hadn't they? Castle emerged from the break room, the sofa cushions clutched against his chest, and she smiled at him.

First, this.

Then they'd make Houghton bring them back to their own time. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to heal.

* * *

He thought he'd missed her, thought that the summer was already doing its worst. He'd had no idea.

Seeing her was agony.

Unlike the dazed rapture with which he'd followed Houghton when she'd rescued him from the book launch party, dealing with the very real, very fragile, Kate Beckett was an entirely different beast.

He was walking on eggshells.

How had he - even for a second - believed that Houghton was Beckett? They were like night and day.

At the thought of day, he grimaced, standing to draw the window shades and block out the light that streamed through before kneeling again, arranging the cushions on the ground for Kate. Sofas throughout the precinct had yielded many, dusty as they were, and with that blanket, well, Beckett could sleep quite well there.

There weren't enough for two beds, though.

Beckett kneeled down beside him, and he gestured to the bed. "Go ahead."

She smiled, her tired eyes half-closed as she sank into the cushions, pulling the blanket around herself.

"I'll, uh-" he pointed toward the door, but her eyebrows drew together in the tiniest of frowns.

"You'll…?"

"I'll go find somewhere to curl up," he said, regret lacing his words, but she shook her head, patting the space beside her.

"Castle?"

"Mmmh?"

"There's room here," she whispered, and turned away, curling in on herself before he could respond, but not before he saw the pink that colored her cheeks.

He hesitated just a second before shuffling back to her, gingerly settling himself next to her body as he tried to avoid touching her and keep his breathing even.

"Night, Castle," she murmured. Her breathing grew heavier as she fell asleep, and he closed his eyes as he weighed everything up.

Maybe 2016 wasn't such a write-off after all.

* * *

Beside her, Castle snuffled in his sleep, and she smiled, nestling into him and drawing his arm around her own shoulder, careful to keep its weight off the scar that decorated her torso. The late afternoon sun was too strong for the blinds, and dust particles danced in the light that streamed through the cracks. Without AC to keep the precinct at a steady temperature the room was warm, and she pushed the blanket aside even as she closed her eyes again, content to take another few minutes with Castle.

_Castle_?

And now she was awake.

What the hell?

It all came flooding back and she groaned, throwing her hand over her mouth so as to not wake Castle.

"Don't get up," he murmured, and she twisted her head toward him; no, he wasn't awake, just sleep talking. She grinned. Castle sleep-talked. Of course he did. That was kind of cu-

She shook her head.

Not cute. Not anything. This was a once in a lifetime thing, wrapped up in his arms like this. She sighed. Did it have to be, though? Maybe when they got back to their own time they'd be able to talk like adults. After all, running upstate under the presence of recovering when it was really to get out of cell-phone range and avoid Castle hadn't worked so well. She rolled her eyes, disentangling herself from him and standing, grimacing. Would her body ever work properly again?

She shook off the thought as she stretched, tiptoeing across the room and opening the door as quietly as she could. Her stomach was rumbling, but there was something she wanted more than food, and if she wasn't mistaken, now that she thought it about it, she could make it happen.

* * *

He opened his eyes, blinking at the bright light that coursed through the room before turning his head to look beside him.

She wasn't there. Of course not. How long had she lasted before the urge to slip away became too strong? An hour? Two? Either way, he hoped she'd had enough sleep, because tonight would be brutal. Houghton hadn't been exactly forthcoming with them about her plans, but no doubt-

The door swung open, and like a goddess before him, Kate stood framed in the doorway, a steaming cup of coffee in each hand and a triumphant smirk on her face.

"What- Kate?"

"Brought you a coffee," she said, crossing the room and handing him one, letting her hand linger on his as she did so.

"What- _how_?"

She settled down onto the cushions beside him, bringing her legs up to her chest and drawing a long sip from her own mug. "Remember last year-" she laughed. "Our last year, I mean- that case where the hiker strangled his companion with a sleeping bag."

He nodded. "Uh-huh. I had nightmares about that one," he confessed.

"All his camping gear was in evidence, and then some of it got moved to storage, and there was a little camp stove, and I found a French Press in Karpowski's desk. The coffee is a little stale, but it's all we've got." She beamed, and he smiled back, feeling his eyes crinkle in response to the happiness she was radiating.

"Amazing," he whispered, dipping his head and inhaling the coffee.

She nodded, taking another mouthful of hers and leaning her head against his shoulder. He froze for a moment before relaxing into her touch. He sighed, letting himself reach out for her, resting a tentative hand on her knee.

"I missed you," he confessed, the words slipping out before he could stop them, and she threw him a mournful look that had him backtracking, withdrawing his hand and holding it up in surrender. "I'm- no. No, Kate. It's- you- don't-"

"Castle," she breathed. "It's… No." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, okay? I… I meant to call." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "But I just needed- I thought I needed-"

He shrugged, keeping his own eyes trained on his coffee. "I was mad, Beckett. I really was. I wanted- I thought you would call. But it's been two months, and…"

"And I didn't call."

"I figured Josh was helping you heal," he said, the lump in his throat making it impossible to take another mouthful of his drink.

"Josh?" She huffed out a low laugh. "No. Oh. God, no. Castle, we… we broke up."

"You… did?" He swallowed, breathing a little easier now. "Why?"

Her answer was soft, and he strained to hear it. "You know why."

"I do?"

She nodded, her head still dipped. "I couldn't be with him. Not when you-"

"When I…?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't be with someone else," she murmured at last, shaking her head and standing as she drained her coffee, and he smiled.

So there was hope.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to all the readers and especially the reviewers! So much love for you all. And especially a lot of love for Kylie and Jamie who gave it all a read through to look for my mistakes! x **


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Kate, I-" Castle stood, reaching out a tentative hand, and she turned to see the ghost of a smile on his lips, his expression softer than it had been for the last however many hours they'd been thrown together.

She smiled back at him. Running upstate had been a mistake. Not that she hadn't needed the time alone, because she had, but because she'd thought she could do it without him.

She should have called him instead of fooling herself into believing he was better off without her. If the look on his face was anything to go by - hope and fear mingled, an underlying mistrust still in his eyes - she had only succeeded in hurting him.

She should have called. Kate took a step toward him. She could make this right, if only she could explain-

The conference room door swung open, and Houghton stood in the entrance, guns slung in holsters around her torso.

"Are you ready?" She didn't wait for an answer, turning and beckoning them to follow. "Let's go."

* * *

Over the years, Castle had had some pretty ludicrous ideas. This one though, took the cake, and it wasn't even his. Beckett glared at the back of Houghton's head as she led them from the precinct into the street. Surely this machine couldn't have been programmed with her memories - she would never have come up with anything this stupid.

Then again...

The memory of agreeing to act drunk, letting it turn into a kiss - more than a kiss - before losing all sense of reason and handing Castle her back-up piece... She shrugged, letting out a soft sigh as she conceded, silently, that she had a reckless side too.

"And this camp is only five blocks away?" Castle asked. "And we're just going to… walk right in there?"

Beside her, Alexis moaned, a small whimper, and she offered her a sympathetic smile.

She would never condone putting Alexis in danger, but the teenager had refused to stay alone in the precinct, and Houghton had shrugged, gesturing for her to come with them.

"And they're going to let us walk in, guns blazing?" Beckett asked, and Houghton just nodded.

"It's under control," she insisted.

Beckett grimaced, already on edge as they walked down the silent Manhattan street. How many times had she taken this route? She could have sworn she knew every inch of the two hundred foot stretch of pavement between the subway station and the precinct, but she could see now that that wasn't the case. The dull windows of the buildings reflected the shine of the moonlight, and everything looked old, foreign.

How quickly the world had collapsed in on itself.

Ahead, _their_ coffee shop - usually Castle went alone to pick up their coffee, but that didn't stop her smiling every time she passed it - showed signs of destruction, its windows smashed, the door kicked in. Through the broken glass she could see the tables and chair strewn around the small room, the espresso maker on the floor.

How had this happened?

She shook her head, forcing herself to look down the street, when the silence was broken by a noise she couldn't identify. The swish of… metal? A clang, and yes, that was metallic. And it was growing louder. Much louder, and rapidly.

"Back here," Houghton commanded, ushering them into a doorway, and the four of them cowered as a squadron marched across the closest intersection.

These were not humanoid, a la Houghton and not-Castle. No, these were men of metal, their limbs, torsos and heads silver, their eyes flashing red as they scanned the street.

This was really happening.

"Come on," Houghton said, marching them back into the open streets. This time, Beckett knew to be afraid, and she shuddered, darting her head around as she tried to get a 360 on the city. Beside her, Alexis' eyes shone with unshed tears and she forced another smile, bravado she didn't feel, in an attempt to calm the girl. Castle, too, looked toward his daughter, extending his hand helplessly as he patted her shoulder.

* * *

"We're here." Houghton announced.

Rounding the corner, Castle blinked as his eyes adjusted to the blazing lights, the first hint of electricity he'd seen since they'd gone forward in time, and the first time he'd dealt with anything bright since night had fallen and they'd crept from the precinct.

"Okay…" Alexis exhaled, and he wrapped an arm around her.

"Be brave," he whispered in her ear, and she nodded.

"Take these," Houghton said, thrusting paperwork at them, and he frowned. Blueprints?

"I thought-"

"If we can get them out, great," Houghton said. "If we can't, we can at least give them these. There's a lot they can do from the inside."

Castle nodded, folding the pages of instruction. Was it really possible he was shoving the answer to saving humanity into his back pocket?

"Now." Houghton paused, looking at each of them, and drawing her gun. "In front of me."

"What?" As Alexis spoke, Beckett nodded, apparently unsurprised by this twist in the plan.

"What?" he echoed, the reality hitting him.

"You didn't think we could just walk in there, did you? They'll know you're human the second they lay eyes on you. But I can get you in if they think you're my prisoners."

Castle closed his eyes, a vain attempt to block out the matter of fact tone with which Houghton was presenting their options.

Options?

It didn't feel like they had a choice at all, and he wondered if that was perhaps the whole point. Was that the entire reason to ensure humanity's survival, to make sure people could continue making their own choices, exhibiting their own free will?

He scrubbed a tired hand across his face. If they ever got back to their own time he was going to have to give serious thought to serious literature.

He opened his eyes to Houghton's glare, frowning back at her.

There was a bravado that hadn't been there before, when it was just the two of them. Huh. He frowned, trying to work it out. Houghton was being downright prickly, but what had changed?

It was 2016 now but to hear her talk she had time traveled more than once. True, things were more volatile here, but as reasons went, that one didn't ring true.

Alexis was here, but she had been in the Hamptons, and Houghton had insisted on saving her after the ill-fated book launch party, so it couldn't be that.

Kate. It had to be Kate. Ironic that Beckett seemed to be dealing better with her robot counterpart than the machine was with her. He swallowed as an uncomfortable idea settled upon him.

Houghton was jealous.

* * *

Being programmed with human memories was wrought with flaws, and Houghton made a mental note to send that feedback to- she shook her head. There was no one to send the feedback on to. She couldn't risk connecting to the grid again, not unless she was willing to risk being reprogrammed. That would mean turning her back on the resistance, and turning her back on Castle.

That wasn't an option.

She needed to save Castle at all costs to herself, and Beckett too.

If only she didn't need to lead them first into the lion's den. But 2016 was just one of many years and there was work to be done. She needed to do her job, and if everyone else completed their own tasks, this whole thing would be averted.

Where would she be then?

Nowhere, came the answer in her own head, and she glared at Castle as he stood in her line of vision with his eyes closed.

They had to do what they had to do, though, and she drew her weapons, nudging her gun into Beckett's back. The cop flashed her a look over her shoulder but got the point she was trying to make, marching forward, Castle and Alexis beside her.

The last hundred feet were all too short, and she nodded at the guard, careful to keep a blank and neutral expression on her face. Certainly that was an advantage of the previous models, she had to admit; they weren't cursed with the potentially fatal flaw of facial contortions that could too easily be interpreted and misinterpreted.

But if she were mere metal she'd be one of the many, and she couldn't bring herself to regret anything, not even sharing Beckett's face and memories, not when they'd brought her the last few days with-

No.

She didn't need to go there.

She would get him in, get him out, and get him safely back to his own time before she faded away.

"Humans," she coughed out, and the guard nodded, his movements clumsy as he opened the door.

"Processing is that way," he responded, and she watched Castle, Beckett and Alexis, wishing she were oblivious to the fear that was coursing through their veins.

"Have you searched them?" the next machine asked, and Houghton nodded.

"Of course," she lied, the fib half true; she'd been the one to give them their weapons, even convincing Alexis to tuck a small handgun into the waistband of her pants before they'd left the precinct. So it wasn't exactly that she had or hadn't searched them, so much as she was acutely aware of just what everyone was carrying beneath their ill-fitting and bulky coats.

"Then through there. Work and room assignments next."

Their fingerprints were taken, their names recorded; no one asked for ID so as Houghton spilled off the names she'd prepped for them, no one blinked. She marveled at the inefficiency, but of course, in 2016 the idea that a resistance would rise, that anyone would push back was less than an echo. The third generation models were so very assured of their superiority that corners were being cut. With any luck by the time they ran the day's new convicts through the system they would all be long gone.

"Clean." The machine had marked something against Castle's name before looking at Beckett and Alexis. "Cook and repair."

She guided them through another door, relieved to be alone with her humans in the next room.

"Work assignments?" Castle asked. "Clean, cook and repair?" He was glowering as he stood over her, and she pushed him away; no doubt there were cameras here, and she could not afford to be seen as vulnerable to the threats of a human.

"You know your real assignment," she reminded him, matching his glare, and he narrowed his eyes at her before taking a step back to stand in line, shoulder to shoulder, between his daughter and his- and Beckett.

Houghton shrugged, suddenly tired of the human emotions that were clouding her judgment, interfering with what should have been easy and clear objectives.

"You need to go, now," she told them, waving them toward the next set of doors. "Find who you need to find. I'll be waiting for you."

"You haven't told us who we're looking for," Beckett reminded her, and the sharp sting of annoyance flooded through her wiring.

"Ri- Castle knows," she said. "He doesn't know he knows. But he'll know, when he sees her."

* * *

For someone who had been to hundreds upon hundreds of crime scenes, for someone who had awoken in the hospital more than once, and for someone who had poured over the crime scene photos of her own mother's murder more times than was healthy, Beckett couldn't believe just how depressing this place was.

It looked like it had been an office building once, although she couldn't remember anything specific; the building was a block past the subway station closest to the precinct, so any occasions she'd had to walk past it would have been few.

The ground floor - processing - had been all too bright, the fluorescents unforgiving. Now they had made their way up the stairs, the lighting was lower, and what used to be cubicles were visible.

In each cubicle people huddled, and Beckett buried her head in her hands as she trailed after Castle and Alexis.

The whole place was full of an overwhelming sense of _gray_ although in reality, there were colors. But everyone's clothing was drab, the shades muted in the emergency lighting that permeated everything, and the stench of too many people living in too close quarters had her wrinkling her nose. Any noise was low mumblings, no conversations were held above a whisper, and each cubicle housed three or four people all on cots practically on top of each other.

Castle slowed his step as they rounded a corner, and she forced herself to blink, focus on what he was doing - was he walking blindly just looking for someone he might or might not know?

This plan stank, nearly as badly as the floor itself.

"Castle-" she started, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to her. "Do you even know where we're going?"

He shrugged, reaching out to point at the office walls. "Honestly? I was going to start with finding our room, figured we could go from there."

At the end of the hall two machines swept the corridor with flashing eyes, both of them setting their gaze on Castle, Beckett and Alexis, and Kate nudged him, urging him forward before they could draw much more attention to themselves.

"Two-twenty-three," Castle mumbled, setting off at an ambling pace and squinting at the numbers on the partition walls. "Look. Here."

This was one of the larger cubicles. It had probably been two, but whether the removal of one of the temporary walls had taken place before or after people had been rounded up, Beckett couldn't say. There were, however, six cots, three of which were empty - no blankets on any of them - and three others, upon each of which someone lay.

A child was sleeping on her cot, blankets protectively wrapped around her, and to her left, a man who Beckett took to be her father, judging by the way he lay on his side, his arm wrapped protectively around the small girl. On her right was a woman, who sat up as they approached, a smile curling onto her mouth as she recognized them.

"Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle." She kneeled on her own bed, beckoning them to the empty cots without standing and being seen over the partition. "I never thought I'd see you two again."

Beside her, Castle beamed, standing a little straighter before turning to Beckett. "Houghton told me I'd know who I was looking for when I found her!"

Beckett nodded, ushering Alexis forward before the girl could ask any questions, and pushing Castle after her; he couldn't just _stand_ there with a grin on his face and expect the machines at the end of the hall to take no note.

It was on the tip of her tongue to question exactly why Houghton had been so sure _Castle_ would recognize the woman when it was obvious she knew her just as well, but she stopped herself, sinking onto the cot beside Castle and holding out her hand to let the other woman pull her into a short embrace.

"It's good to see you, Jordan." She turned to Alexis to introduce them. "Alexis, this is Jordan Shaw."

* * *

**A/N: I heart you guys so much for all the happy feedback last chapter... hope you enjoyed this one too! Everlasting gratitude to Jamie and Kylie for their notes! x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Jordan!" Castle grinned before lowering his voice. "Jordan. It's _so_ good to see you."

She managed a thin-lipped smile in reply, nodding toward the sleeping girl and the man on the other two cots. "This is my husband, David, and our daughter, Kaitlin."

"Jordan, what's going on?" Beckett asked, and the other woman frowned.

"I'm sure you know as much as I do," she said. "Although if you've just been brought in… did you really manage to stay out of sight for the last two months?"

"Two months?" Castle asked. "That you've been here, you mean?"

"Yes." Jordan frowned. "Where have you been?"

"We, uh-" Castle hesitated, glancing at Beckett, and she dipped her head, encouraging him to continue. "We just got here. To, uh- to 2016, I mean-"

"You _what_?" Jordan's husband was sitting up before Castle could finish his sentence. "I mean, we heard rumors, but-"

"Rumors?" Kate asked. Further along the hall she heard the clank of metal as one of the guards started moving toward them, and David nodded to their cots.

"Lie down," he said, and Beckett shuffled onto her own cot obediently, squeezing her eyes closed as the guards drew closer, daring to peek as they passed.

In her more dramatic moments she'd thought of the cabin as a prison.

She'd been wrong.

Then again, maybe this wasn't prison; it was hell.

The eerie swish of metal joints made their way up to the other end of the room, and Beckett watched as Jordan and David relaxed. Kaitlin stirred, and Jordan reached out a hand, stilling the girl. Castle sat up, leaning in toward the others, and Beckett remained still, flat on her back. Just a few hours ago she'd been curled up with Castle, and now…

Houghton's plan seemed more absurd with each passing minute.

"Rumors?" Castle asked, echoing Kate's earlier question, and Jordan and David leaned in, nodding.

"They say there's a resistance. They say we're fighting back. We know- we know some people. We've been hesitant, until now, to get involved. We have Katie to think about-" Beckett closed her eyes, memories of her own parents calling her Katie ringing in her ears, "-but if you know something… well, we know someone."

"Someone? Let's go."

"Not so fast," Jordan cautioned them. "Everything is monitored in here. We can't just walk over to their cots any more than we can walk out of here."

"About that." Castle cleared his throat. "That's… exactly what we plan to do. We have someone waiting for us on the outside."

* * *

Houghton paced as she waited. Being machine, not man, was supposed to afford her the luxury of patience, but at this point, she had to wonder: how human was she?

More than III-47RC, of that she was certain.

But as anxiety flooded her veins, pulled her nerve-like wires to the fray, she had to wonder; had he been better off than she was? Was being reprogrammed such a good thing? Knowing one's mission, without the influence of human emotion was surely safer, a more reliable and trustworthy method of intelligence. After all, that was the problem with humankind in the first place, one of many reasons machines had evolved to be superior; their whimsy and flights of fancy had no place in the twenty-first century.

Facts mattered, and if that meant the human race needed to die out or - at best - be enslaved, well, she mused, maybe her kind had it right.

Except, they didn't, because as her heart pounded in her metal chest, the battery keeping her body conscious and able, she could only see Castle, and she shuddered as she strained against her programming.

'Save Richard Castle' was stupidly at odds with 'bring Richard Castle into the future, along with Kate Beckett and Alexis Castle'.

If there were awards for the most poorly hacked machine, whoever had infiltrated the system the day she had connected to it would no doubt be a recipient.

She sighed, reaching the end of the alleyway in which she was laying low, turning to walk in the other direction again, her mind still at odds with itself.

She envied III-47RC, the simplicity his programming had afforded him, but was grateful that she'd not walked his path, was resolute in her devotion to Richard Castle even as she seethed with jealousy toward - not just toward the machine she and Beckett had killed in the precinct - but the many others who spent their days obeying their programming, unconflicted.

Conflicted.

She snorted softly, hating herself for the agony the word sent through her.

She really was more human than machine, wasn't she?

* * *

"So we have these," Castle whispered, pulling the blueprints Houghton had given him from his pocket. "These are from this building, that's our escape route. And these-" he held up more papers, "-are the blueprints everyone needs to memorize. Plans for reverse engineering time travel, the machines, their network plans… everything."

The small group nodded obediently. Jordan and David had introduced them to three people who claimed to have contacts on the outside; Trista, Clay and Jack. More than that, the three of them - in particular Trista, claimed to be engineering geniuses. Castle handed the sheets of paper around before shuffling over to Beckett and nudging her.

"You okay?"

"Just want this to be over."

"Me too." He managed a small smile and she returned it, but the upturn of her lips didn't reach her eyes, fear still filling her expression. "When it's over," he started, "we should… celebrate."

She huffed out a sigh, but nodded. "Old Haunt with the boys? You buying?"

He nodded, bringing his hand up to his face and scrubbing it across his forehead. Not exactly the celebrating he had in mind - the memory of her thigh pressed against his as they'd shared coffee this afternoon lingered - but if that was what she was offering…

He wouldn't refuse.

Maybe they'd never be what he wanted them to be. Maybe they weren't destined to be Nikki and Rook; he couldn't write their happy ending, couldn't force a thing.

But he could - and had already done so - forgive her for running this summer. They could be partners again.

She nudged back into him, stretching her arms out in front of her and brushing a hand against his knee before returning them to her lap, her cheeks pink.

Maybe, he thought, the smile on his lips a little more genuine now, he didn't need to force a thing.

Whatever needed to happen would happen.

* * *

"Let's move, people."

Beckett smiled, the stretch of her mouth unfamiliar and awkward, as she watched Jordan Shaw direct the team.

In contrast to the polished FBI agent she'd met years ago, well dressed in suits that screamed sexy, this was a different woman; Jordan's hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, the long unwashed strands united by a single hair tie. Her sweatpants were faded, holes in the knees, and her sweater threadbare.

Yet she was relentless, her drive and command of the situation every bit as intoxicating as it had been then.

Reluctant as she'd been to fall with Castle into the cult of Shaw admiration, this time round she had no such reservations.

The woman was electric.

The team they'd formed - ragtag if anything - took off at a slow sprint, their footfall silent as they moved down the dark corridor.

The hall intersected, and Jordan held up a hand to stop everyone as she looked around the corner, clearing their path before directing them, as per the floor plan, toward the right.

This side of the building housed offices that Beckett presumed locked; Jordan had clarified their use as they'd poured over the blueprints. Indeed, there was machinery in there, and only the third generation machines ever entered. But those who were assigned to city clean up, such as David, walked these halls on a daily basis and he'd assured them their path would be clear at this time of night.

From there, Jordan and Castle had devised a plan, figuring out the quickest way to get into the emergency stairwell, down a flight of stairs to the kitchen, and then through the window that Houghton had assured them would be open.

The team continued on, Beckett forcing her limbs to keep moving as the now familiar sound of the guards echoed up the hall. Ahead of her, Jordan reached the stairwell, opening the door. Silence reigned, and Beckett closed her eyes for a half-second as she counted their blessings so far. Whatever the hell Houghton had done to make sure the alarm didn't go off had worked. Jordan ushered the team forward, their footsteps audible now as they bounced off concrete, no longer silenced by the soft linoleum.

The clang increased as the guards drew closer, and Beckett filed after Alexis, stilling as Jordan followed her, closing the door behind them all before the robots made it around the corner.

So far, so good.

Opening the door to the second floor was a different story, five machines in plain sight, their backs turned.

"Run," Jordan instructed, her voice still low and controlled as she pointed in the direction of the kitchen. David ran, Kaitlin in his arms and Alexis on his tail, Clay, Trista and Jack behind them while Beckett drew her weapon. Beside her, Jordan and Castle did the same. Beckett found herself missing the weight of the many guns she'd walked in with; a single weapon in her hand now that she'd shared out the spares she'd been allocated at the precinct felt nothing like enough.

The machines hadn't seen them yet, but it wouldn't be long and she edged down the hallway. If they could just get to the kitchen-

One of the machines turned, and she closed her eyes for a split second, anticipating the gun fire before the first shot rang out. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she stared at the enemy as they approached, their pace steady and unhurried. Between them, they had enough fire power to take down one or two machines, but not a building full, so she needed to focus.

"Grenade," Castle whispered, and she swallowed, her hands shaking as she pulled her only other weapon from her back pocket. "You got this," he urged, and she nodded, pulling the pin and tossing it down the corridor before turning and running.

She heard the blast as Jordan slammed the kitchen door shut, and she followed the group; Alexis and David were out of sight already, Clay's feet disappearing as he slid out the window and onto the fire escape, Trista and Jack close behind him. "Go, go," Jordan urged them, and Castle waved her forward. She swung her leg over the window frame, grimacing as she twisted and the scar on her side pulled.

All the adrenalin in the world was not enough to let her forget she was recovering from a bullet wound and open heart surgery. Castle's eyes flickered with worry as he opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head, sliding the rest of the way out.

"I'm fine," she spat at him as he and Jordan followed her, and they clambered down the flimsy metal stairs, all attempts at silence long gone.

"Come on," Jack called, holding a car door open, and they squished into a Crown Vic, nine people plus a machine driving it way too many in the cramped space.

Houghton took off, the car's tires squealing in protest as she peeled away, and the gunfire started for real.

* * *

**A/N: thanks, you guys! x**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The back windscreen shattered as gunfire screamed through the air and Beckett ducked, coming face to face with Castle. The look of fear in his eyes, was, she was sure, identical to her own.

Houghton drove on, though, the car leaving the machines in its wake, fewer bullets flying in their direction until the car took a sharp turn, and the immediate threat died off.

"Have we lost them?" Castle managed, and from the front seat, Houghton nodded.

"For now, anyway. We need to get out of here though, before they find us."

"Where are we going?" Alexis asked, and Houghton coughed out a small laugh.

"All going well? You're going back to 2011 with Castle and Beckett."

"And the rest of us?" Jordan asked.

"Uh…" Houghton hesitated, taking another sharp turn as she headed down what had been a one way street - the wrong way.

"The rest of us?" Clay echoed, his tone distinctly less calm than Jordan's, and Beckett caught the way Houghton's eyes flashed in the rear view mirror before she answered.

"You're staying here… for now. There are others you need to meet. Reconnaissance you need to do."

Trista huffed out a sigh. Wedged between Clay and Jack, Beckett thought she looked the calmest of the three. "Better out here than in that camp," she offered, her hand wrapping around Clay's, and he nodded.

"We're here," Houghton announced, killing the engine as she glided into a parking space - one Beckett recognized as her own. They were back at the precinct. "Come on. Upstairs. We're expecting visitors any moment now."

Kate grimaced as she extracted herself from the car, unable to refrain from bending and clutching at her side as the scar pulled. First thing, when she got back, she was seeing a doctor.

"Everything okay?" Castle murmured in her ear and she nodded, but instead of returning the nod and moving to follow the others, he hesitated before taking a step toward her and bringing his own hand to her torso, his touch so very tender as the warmth from his skin bled through her shirt, easing the pain that had flared.

"I'm okay," she murmured back, and he nodded, at last, holding his position as she dropped her gaze, exhaling.

"Okay," he said after a pause, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead before letting his hand fall from her side. "Okay."

She smiled, lifting her eyes to his, understanding flooding her. This wasn't something she could run from. Not now, and not back in 2011 by buying herself time up at the cabin.

One day, this would be real.

Her last everything.

And, damn it, she was going to do it properly, not by jumping him and spilling her heart in the precinct's parking garage in 2016.

* * *

He couldn't turn it off. Not now, not ever.

His hand still burned from where he'd touched her side but he smiled back at her, forcing himself to keep his breathing even while his heart tried to thud itself out of his chest, a speedy rhythm keeping time with his thoughts as they raced around his head.

He said nothing though, not even when Beckett slid her own hand into his and nudged him in the direction of the rest of the party.

Trailing after her, he struggled to meet her stride. For someone who had been near doubled over in pain just a minute ago, she sure was moving, and they made their way up the stairs into the building.

Home.

Or, it was meant to be.

The scene at which they'd - and he was going to say it now, but silently, so he didn't jinx it - fallen for each other. The space in which coffee after coffee had been shared as a token of appreciation, her disdain for his fancy machine falling away as she let him in, one step at a time, in her own way.

Montgomery had thought he, Castle, was the only person who could make Beckett stand down. That wasn't strictly true but he thought he understood, now, what the Captain had meant, what Roy had seen when he looked at them.

A partnership.

It was time to go home, and Beckett opened the door, hope on her face as she preceded him into the precinct. His own smile froze on his face as he realized, too late, what was happening.

They'd walked into an ambush.

* * *

Protecting Castle had been hard enough, and being charged with the care of both Beckett and Alexis had nettled at Houghton.

Trying to look after an additional six humans, one of whom was a child, had proved a nightmare from the minute she'd met them at the compound, gunfire on their tail as she hit the gas.

Castle, she reminded herself. Castle mattered. Castle and Beckett. Anyone else could be collateral damage.

But whatever they'd done to her when they'd hacked the mainframe, drilled into her programming, and forced her to save Richard Castle instead of kill him had obviously gone deeper than she'd realized, and she found herself pushing the humans out of the way as she charged toward the first generation models, her own guns drawn.

One first generation model was one thing. Hell, two she could handle, but there were five of them. Much as she knew the team she'd had Castle assemble needed some models to experiment on, this was too many.

The last thing she wanted was to draw Castle into the line of fire, but somewhere in her consciousness, she wished he were beside her, his own weapon drawn.

If they were partners…

But Beckett had never let Castle carry a weapon. Her vision blurred as she took a bullet to the skull, righting again in an instant, but the uninvited anger remained, a flash of fury directed toward Kate Beckett.

_She didn't deserve him._

More bullets flew through the air, most making contact with their target; her flesh sizzled as the bullets bounced of the metal encased in the synthetic skin, and vaguely, she was aware of the humans - which ones, she didn't know - opening fire too, the air fairly alive with the barrage of gunfire.

_Where was Castle?_

Another bullet hit her squarely in the jaw, and still she kept going, determined that mere first generation models wouldn't best her.

_She needed to save Rick-_

The third bullet to her skull knocked her flat on her back, and for a moment, the world stilled, her vision blacking out again, and she struggled to pull herself together as the rest of her system threatened a complete shutdown.

_Online._

She just needed to stay online, get her visuals back, and keep firing, keep Castle safe-

A fourth bullet, and she was out cold, everything dark and silent.

* * *

Houghton's vision flickered as she regained consciousness, turning her head and letting her gaze span the room. Five gen ones. All down.

Humans. She counted. Five, that she could see; one on the ground, evidently wounded, two others crouched over him.

She stood up as her internal drive flicked back online, assessing her physical prowess as she did so; gunshot wounds had torn flesh from her torso, her arms and her face. She ran a quick system check; something was off, but what, she didn't know.

She turned around, counting the other humans that she recognized. Closest to her stood Beckett. By the break room window, Alexis. Jordan Shaw. Behind them, in the break room, rummaging around in the first aid kit, a man.

Her sight flickered again, momentary fuzz distorting her vision, and she forced the man into focus.

_Richard Castle._

She took a step toward him, bringing her handgun up and taking aim.

_Richard Castle._

She was programmed to kill him.

* * *

**A/N: ****Thank you J&amp;K. And readers... *hides* x**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

From the periphery of her vision, Beckett watched, stunned, as Houghton rose unsteadily. With Clay down, but no one else injured, they'd all done well in the gunfight, all five machines destroyed quickly.

She hadn't expected Houghton to go down though.

And she hadn't expected her to stand and aim her weapon directly at Castle.

Beckett lunged.

The element of surprise was in her favor, or maybe Houghton just wasn't firing on all cylinders yet - in Beckett's estimation the machine had been out cold for a solid 60 seconds, maybe more - and she knocked the gun out of her doppelgänger's hand.

A scramble ensued, Houghton clawing at Beckett's face, but she held her ground as Jordan and Castle rushed to help her.

"Watch out," Castle yelled, and together with Houghton, she looked up to see him towering over them. Houghton's grip around her neck slackened as she focused on Castle, and Beckett used the moment to slide away, Castle and Jordan upturning a desk on top of the deranged machine, the weight of them pressing it down and pinning her to the floor.

"What the hell?" Jordan exclaimed, and Castle turned to them, helpless fear in his eyes.

"I have no idea," he admitted. Beneath the desk, Houghton struggled to become free, and Beckett forced herself to move.

"She's bad," she said, her fingers already wrapped around the weapon she'd managed to knock away from Houghton. "She's gone bad."

Below the table, Houghton's face was visible, her skin blanched white as she shook her head desperately.

"Not the gun," Castle said, holding out a knife and a screwdriver. "We have to end this."

"She's the only one who knows how we get back," Beckett said, torn. Pressed up against the break room door, Alexis whimpered.

"No, no, I know," Castle said, his words coming in breathless rasps. "I know. I read the blueprints. We don't need her, we can end this." He moved toward Houghton, sliding down onto the floor next to her and gripping her face with his left hand, the knife in his right. "We can end this."

"No," Houghton protested. "No, no." The fear rose in her voice. "No, Castle. No. I'm better. I'm better. I'm sorry. I'm fixed. I fixed-"

"You were going to kill Beckett," he snarled back at her, and Houghton stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear as he brought the knife to her skull.

"I'm better, I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I reran my program, I'm better."

"Don't listen to her." Alexis' voice wavered across the bullpen. "She's lying."

"No, I'm better. I'm sorry. I rebooted, and I'm better. I just-"

Castle sliced into her skull, pulling back the flap of skin that covered the chip.

"No. Castle, I love you. I love you, Rick-"

Castle froze, his eyes meeting Houghton's, then drawing up to meet Beckett's. "What do I do?" he whispered hoarsely, and she stared back at him.

"Let me stay with you, don't let me go, please," the machine begged, and Beckett closed her eyes.

_Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate._

"I love you, Rick," Houghton said again, and Beckett opened her eyes, words leaving her own mouth as a tear rolled down her face.

"Let her live."

* * *

"Is Clay okay?" Jordan asked, rushing over to the man on the floor, and Castle turned from Houghton, meeting Beckett's eyes.

Intense.

From across the room, Alexis glared at Houghton, her arms wrapped around herself, and he swallowed.

There was no way to know if he'd done the right thing, but Beckett had sounded sure, and Houghton-

Houghton had told him she loved him.

Machines couldn't feel.

Could they?

"I'm sorry," Houghton whispered again, and he shook his head, unable to meet her gaze as he helped push the desk off her. "I really am better."

"Then prove it," Beckett said, her voice heavy as she scrubbed a hand across her face, wiping away the tears that had spilled. "Prove it by getting us back home."

Houghton nodded. "Everything you need is here. We just need- only you can go. Some of the others need to stay here. And the circle can be big, you know that."

Castle nodded, remembering the way his own copy had been brought with them last time.

"So what are we waiting for?" Beckett asked, and Castle clenched his fist, inordinately proud of the way she was holding it all together while he stood there, shaking.

"Visitors," Houghton said, and as Clay stood up unsteadily, Jordan and Trista supporting his weight, footfall sounded on the staircase and the group turned as one, weapons drawn, ready to fight the next intruders.

"Yo, hold up," came the call, and Castle's jaw dropped as he watched Beckett run across the floor and throw herself into Esposito's arms.

"'Sito," he choked out, following her, and offering his hand to their friend.

"Beckett? Castle?" Esposito stepped back from them, confusion all over his face. "What- but I left you-" He stared at Beckett's stomach, his mouth gaping open. "Beckett?"

"Javi?" she asked, reaching a hand out to brush against his arm, but he jerked back from her touch.

Understanding flooded Castle all at once. "Different Beckett," he managed, lost for words as he tried to explain. "You… know a Beckett here? She's different. We're different. We're-" he halted his rambling, following Esposito's gaze which had landed on Houghton.

"You wanna explain this to me?" Esposito demanded, rounding on Castle, and he nodded, trying again.

"She's different too." He jerked his thumb in Houghton's direction. "She's one of us, but she's a-"

"I know what she is," Espo growled. "Is that what you are, too?" Beckett shook her head as Castle fumbled on.

"She's on our side. You guys- you're the resistance, right? You reprogrammed her. She's one of us now."

"We reprogrammed her? Our technology can't-"

"That's why we're here," Beckett interrupted. "Why you're here. Your technology can't, but hers can. She's from-" Kate swallowed before continuing. "She's from the future, and we- we're from the past."

Esposito looked down at Beckett's stomach again before drawing his gaze up to hers and folding her into a rough hug, and Castle felt himself relax, his fingers twitching as he worked the tension out of his body.

"Espo?" Kate asked, and Castle felt his eyebrows draw together again at the waver in her voice. "Do you know us? Here, I mean."

Esposito nodded, his jaw clenched as he stared across the room, his eyes unfocused. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. But you- you're in hiding, and, well-" he shrugged. "I don't know why. I keep hearing things. Whispers about the future. 2036 keeps coming up, over and over again. But I know you. And last time I saw you," he managed a small smile, "you were five months pregnant."

Beckett drew her hands up to her belly, a little gasp escaping her mouth as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah, you-" Esposito chanced a glance at Castle before returning his steadfast gaze to a point behind Beckett's head, "you're pregnant."

* * *

"Let's go." Houghton's voice boomed across the room, and Beckett closed her eyes, their reunion with Esposito cut short.

_Wait_, she wanted to say. _Wait. _

"Ryan?" she asked, casting a frantic look at Espo, and his face fell, giving her all the answers she needed. "But you- you're free. You're okay?"

"I'm okay," he managed, but his voice was world weary. "We- it's hard. We live," he lowered his voice. "We live in the subway tunnels, and there are so few of us. We have so many ideas…"

"That's why we're here," Houghton said, striding over to them, and the flash of revulsion on Esposito's face was all too familiar to Beckett. "You have the beginnings of the resistance, but you just don't know it yet. But Castle-" the beaming look she threw at him forced Beckett to roll her eyes; could a machine _really_ love? "But Castle needed to come here. I didn't know who else you needed. I wouldn't have known who to bring out."

"And you found _Jordan_." Esposito shot Beckett another look that spoke louder than words as he silently asked her, _really?_

Beckett found herself nodding. "And Jack, Trista and Clay."

"You have someone already, yes?" Houghton asked. "Someone who knows computers?"

Esposito nodded. "Tory," he said, his jaw clenched as he revealed her name. "She worked at the 12th," he clarified to Beckett and Castle. "After 2011. You'll like her, when you meet her."

Beckett nodded, interpreting Esposito's hesitancy to speak of Tory at length; they were in a relationship. She swallowed. What about Lanie? But the answer - no answer - she'd received when she'd asked about Ryan burned too badly, and she bit back her question.

If this worked, maybe she'd never have to find out what happened to everyone she loved.

She ran a hand across her torso again. Now, there was only pain. Would she really be pregnant someday?

"And now you have Trista," Houghton said. "And you need the others too. That's why you got the message to come here. Plus," she pointed to the generation one machines on the floor, "you need them. You need to start somewhere."

Esposito nodded, his on-alert stance never faltering as his eyes swept the room.

"And you have me," Houghton added, and Beckett watched the way Esposito's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, silently accepting the situation.

"And these guys?" he jerked a thumb toward Beckett and Castle.

Houghton's gaze lingered on Castle a beat too long before she answered, her voice soft. "My mission was to keep Castle safe. But I have other assignments now, too. They're going home."

* * *

Houghton's heart pounded as she gathered everything she needed. Most of the parts for the time travel circle were in Captain Gates' office. She had asked Castle to open Beckett's desk drawer to find the calendar device and Beckett had narrowed her eyes at him when he'd held up her little stick man, questions in his expression before Kate had snatched it away, rustling through herself and locating the metallic disk.

She didn't want Castle to go.

Alexis' eyes still flashed with anger every time she chanced a glance her way, but Beckett's expression was harder to take. Beckett was looking at her with compassion, like she could read Houghton's mind. And, okay, yes, Houghton could admit to herself that crying to Castle that she loved him was the opposite of keeping her cards close to her chest, but it still cut, somehow, that Beckett knew her mind so well.

Except it was really the other way around.

Houghton swallowed, clenching her fists as she forced herself to remember she was a machine. She didn't need feelings, least of all an echo of _Beckett's_ feelings.

But she couldn't fool herself; her feelings for Castle were not a mere echo.

Rick, meanwhile, was avoiding her gaze altogether, as he followed Beckett with his eyes, every step she took.

She shrugged, taking the disk that Beckett handed her, and assembling the device, winding the date back to where it needed to go. It was so tempting to roll it back a few days earlier; she wanted to chance that enough had changed. If only Castle could re-live his book launch party without casualties this time round, if only someone else could blow up the building in 2011.

With a sigh she set the date correctly. Rules were rules, and if they hadn't affected great enough change the risk was too big.

Location, again, was easy; no way could Beckett, Castle and Alexis land in the middle of the precinct, so the cabin it was.

"Go downstairs," she instructed Esposito and the new members of the resistance. "Down to the ground floor. You need to be out of range."

She watched as Castle and Beckett embraced their friends, Beckett's arms wrapping around Esposito's neck, her tiny figure dwarfed by her partner.

"Keep her safe," Esposito murmured to Castle, and she looked away as he nodded. Had Beckett and Castle put two and two together, yet? Did they understand just why they needed to be protected, and who they were waiting for? To this Castle and Beckett, 2016 was so far in the future, until yesterday unimaginable from 2011. But for Houghton, 2036 was everything, and the fact that she'd been able to keep Castle safe, save him at his book launch party…

Pride swelled through her.

She'd done it.

For now, she was needed in 2016. She might never get back to 2036, might never meet the very person this had all been done for, but she would continue her mission here. She offered Esposito a smile as he disentangled himself from Beckett. He didn't trust her, and he might not for a long time, but he'd partnered with Beckett for years; she'd be there for him now, fight by his side as Tory and Trista and the others worked through the technology they needed to bring about the end of AI and prevent the apocalypse.

"This button here," she said once everyone else had departed, and she handed the device to Castle. "You just need to press it. It'll take you back."

He nodded, surprising her by leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Take care," he whispered, and she nodded, unable to stomach any more of a goodbye.

"Be safe," she whispered. A handful of days, and a flurry of years between them, she'd only just pulled Castle from his ill-fated book launch, driven him around New York. She wanted a do-over. This time she'd let herself be pulled into his games, tease him, let him get under her skin. Hell, if she could do it again, she'd count cows, record license plates, just to have the time with him.

But now it was time to go.

With one last look at the three of them, she turned toward the stairs. She'd made it all the way to the bottom when she reached the others, and a flash of blue reflecting off the stairwell even three flights down told her it was done.

Castle was back in his own time.

* * *

**A/N: I was meant to publish this yesterday, but I was out of range for the whole weekend... back to RL now. Thank you guys for your hardcore love last chapter. Again, with the no replies, again, due to road trip. Mwah! x**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**July 2011**

"Are we… back?" Alexis asked, and Castle groaned, his head spinning as the time travel took its effect. Cabin. Alexis. Beckett. Naked. Right.

He nodded, grabbing a cushion and holding it in front of himself as he took stock of the situation. Beckett was wrapping a throw around her body, and she tossed a second blanket over to his daughter, who covered herself before edging out from behind the cover of the sofa.

"We're back," Beckett said. "Just… us."

"Just us," Castle echoed, his heart heavy at the idea he might never see Houghton again. In front of him, Beckett's eyes glistened with tears, and he stepped forward, his hand reaching out to wrap around her. "We're safe."

"How are we getting back to the city?" Alexis asked, as she peered out the front window. "Your car is all shot up."

"Uh- Houghton and I camped out. We have - we had a car there."

"Where?" Beckett asked.

"There's a clearing right by the house," he said. "You didn't know that?"

She rolled her eyes, and he managed a smile. Some things didn't change. "Of course I knew there was a clearing. It's my house. I didn't know where you camped out, there are a few places that are good for camping."

"Maybe one day you can show me all the best spots," he suggested, and was rewarded with a soft smile.

"One day," she agreed. "But for now… let's go home to the city."

**September 2011**

The range of emotions flooding Beckett were overwhelming.

Walking into the precinct had pushed wave after wave of emotion through her. A couple of officers had spotted her right away, leading the floor in a burst of applause, and from that moment, Beckett had been holding back tears.

The worst moments had been the hushed conversation with Ryan and Esposito. They'd whispered their updates and she'd had to force her brain back to the present; the dragon was her only concern now. But being pulled into a hug by Esposito had choked her up - how were he and Houghton doing in 2016? - and embracing Ryan had nearly undone her.

Encountering Gates for the first time had almost brought tears to her eyes for a myriad of other reasons, number one being that the woman wasn't Montgomery. Walking into the office had been a reminder of the night spent in the precinct in Castle's arms, a reminder of everything that had changed.

She stalked out of Gates' office, furious.

"I want my gun," she spat at Esposito. It wasn't like she hadn't had any target practice over the summer. Hell, no. In fact, not three feet away, she and Houghton had gunned down Not-Castle.

"So you gotta re-qualify. It's no big deal. It's a little insulting, but…"

Esposito couldn't understand; she and Castle - and Alexis - were bound by secrecy. Who would believe them, anyway? She hoped Ryan and Esposito would never have to. Beckett sighed, forcing herself to change the subject.

"Where are the files on the money trail?"

"Castle's got them," Ryan said, and she nodded. "You, uh- you didn't know that?"

"No." How could she explain that she and Castle had spoken every day for the last two months, not once touching on the investigation that had separated them in the first place?

"You gotta go see him," Esposito urged. "Last time he was in here," he exchanged a look with Ryan, "he wasn't okay."

"He was out of control," Ryan confirmed. "Demanding that Gates tell him where you were, that kind of thing."

"Yeah," Esposito hedged. "Hey, you're not mad that I gave little Castle the address of your dad's cabin, are you?"

Beckett shook her head. She and Castle had filled in the blanks around the story Alexis had provided them; the girl - with Espo's help - had led Not-Castle straight to them, but there was nothing for it now.

"It's fine," she promised, pangs of guilt that the rest of her summer had been spent analyzing Castle's every move, wondering why he didn't push or take things any further, as they'd shared meals and movie nights - amongst other things, Castle had insisted on a Harry Potter marathon complete with his own version of Butterbeer - but too few kisses.

They were edging along a precipice, neither diving in the way she had always thought - once the dam broke - they would.

"Go see him," Esposito said again.

Ryan nodded. "If he's mad… he'll get over it, really." He placed his hand over hers, and she smiled wryly, unable to break the truth that while she'd stayed away from the precinct, the boys, and Lanie, she and Castle had been in close quarters.

She released a sigh. It would have been so easy to hole up the rest of the summer in the cabin, and if fate hadn't intervened, she had no doubt she would have. And where would she and Castle be? Then again, where were they now?

Nothing was certain.

Gates stormed out of her office as Beckett stood there, forcing her hand. She didn't want another confrontation with her new captain just yet. Esposito made a face, backing away, toward his desk, and she rolled her eyes. Fine. Beckett waved over her shoulder at the boys as she made her way to the elevator; she'd had just about enough of this place for now, anyway. The walls were too enclosing, claustrophobia getting to her.

* * *

"You can make it out to Kate," she said, and he looked up, his face breaking into a beaming smile as he took her in.

"Are you seriously playing hooky from work on your first day back?" he asked, taking her book from her and poising his pen above the title page.

"Felt like a mistake, going back without you," she admitted, and he nodded.

"Tomorrow," he promised, scrawling something on the page and pressing the cover closed before she could read it. "I have the paperwork from the mayor and everything." He grinned. "Can you wait a bit?" He looked at the line in front of him, appraising it before estimating, "another twenty minutes?"

"Sure." She smiled back at him, wishing she were brave enough to kiss him here and now. Slow and steady, she reminded herself as she stepped outside to wait.

* * *

_In every apocalypse_, Castle had written_, every time. _

Beckett pressed her lips together as she read the inscription scrawled on the title page. The five words felt unfinished, but maybe this was what it was; she and Castle were still incomplete, still denying their feelings. Hesitant touches and stolen glances surmounted her fears step by step, but it was slow going, and they were still talking around the truth of what had happened in the cemetery that day.

"Hey," he greeted her as he came out of the bookstore, pointing across the road at a park before slipping his hand into hers. "Want to sit for a bit?"

She followed him wordlessly toward the swings, settling down on one, the book in her lap.

"In every apocalypse?" she asked, and he nodded.

_I love you, Kate._

She stared down at the book in her hands, fighting to find the next words. "I'm sorry I shut you out," she started. "At the beginning of the summer."

His head jerked up, and he nodded, once, sharply.

"I have, I don't know, a wall. And I want-" she hesitated. How could she explain that after her mom died everything had changed. "I want to be more."

He shrugged as he met her eyes. "I know you remember, Kate," he said at last. "I know you're not ready to talk about it. I can wait. And hey, we spent the last two months together, taking this slowly. It's not like we didn't have enough to think about."

"I don't know if I'm ready," she admitted. "But I can't- I want you. Just you. Us. And I can't keep waiting to put my mom's case to bed, or expecting the sound of machines around every corner, before we begin."

She lifted a shoulder as she struggled to explain, wrapping a hand around the chain on the swing and rocking herself back and forth. Her other hand fell into her lap, brushing against her stomach. Still, her scar pulled, and when she'd gone to see her specialist he'd chastised her for pushing too hard. Nevertheless, she'd worked up the courage to ask whether she'd really be able to get pregnant one day.

"Of course," he'd said. "But not yet. Let your body heal."

One day.

She stood up; a baby could wait, but life couldn't, and she leaned down into Castle, pressing her mouth into his, letting him deepen the kiss, set the pace for what was their first foray into affection outside the chaste goodnight kisses they'd shared over the summer.

"You think we made a difference?" she asked, as she pulled away, breathless. "Do you think we did enough?"

Castle was silent a moment, his eyes wide as he stared up at her. He rocked back and forth on his swing before speaking at last. "Maybe the apocalypse comes, maybe it doesn't. Maybe we altered history and maybe we barely scratched the surface. Maybe one day humankind will be ruled by machines, but we'll know we did our part in helping the resistance."

"And if they come - the robots, I mean - we'll know," she agreed.

"Know?"

"That they're not all bad. That they can be reprogrammed." She sighed, the memory of Houghton's words were still bitter in her ears; they were supposed to be _her_ words, not a machine's.

That didn't make them less true, and one day she would say them herself, to Castle, and he would hear her.

"We'll know that they can love."

* * *

For all the thought Castle had put into the apocalypse, he had never expected what had happened.

Today had started well, great even, and he'd leaped out of bed with a smile on his face, his energy renewed after last night's… _progress_. An entire summer with tears and laughter had been both heart-breaking and joyful, all at once, and after she'd come to see him at the book store yesterday, to take her _home _with him had been everything.

He'd had no idea.

He didn't expect he would truly understand Beckett - Kate's - motivation for ensconcing herself away anytime soon, but things were back on track. _They_ were back on track.

Now their biggest hurdle was going to be his return to the precinct and getting Gates onside. Beckett had a wall, no doubt about it, but they'd done their darnedest to knock a few bricks out last night. He smirked. Three times.

If he'd expected an apocalypse, robots would never have crossed his mind. He would have anticipated something else entirely.

Something big, that was for sure. The idea of the undead roaming the streets of Manhattan, their faces clawed off, their skin rotting, held a little appeal. If he was completely honest with himself, he would have expected a little vampire action too. Maybe werewolves as well, the complete supernatural host breaking into the city's mainstream.

But it hadn't been zombies, so he could never have predicted it, any more than he could have predicted the way a few twists in the rhythm of time had meant Katherine Beckett had been in his bed - finally - last night.

And Richard Castle, making his way from the subway exit along the wide, exposed streets to the Twelfth Precinct for the first time since the beginning of summer, stopping to get Beckett's coffee before joining her at the precinct, was brimming with hope for the future.

* * *

**A/N: Well. Here we are. Holy moly, I swear I didn't mean to fall in love with a robot. **

**Kylie and Jamie: thank you. Your beta-y-ness and general awesome and cheerleading makes my day on a regular basis. **

**Everyone who read it... thank you. I know it's really freaking left-field and so the fact that there were those of you who were team Houghton is spectacular. **

**Big Kahuna... I've so enjoyed our PMs and I... am so sorry, actually sorry, that I didn't have robo-babies in this fic for you. **

**Until next time... thank you all. x**


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